


Captivating

by OmniGamer



Series: Daedric Captivation [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Brief Self-Harm, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Roleplay, Sibling Incest, Tentacle Sex, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 116,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniGamer/pseuds/OmniGamer
Summary: Oneshots and cut-content. Tags subject to change as more stories are added.Tags to specific stories are posted in the respective chapter notes, and ratings for individual chapters are in the respective chapter titles. Stories are organized chronologically rather than order written.First chapter I’ve changed to a Table of Contents as it was getting too long to post everything in the summary.





	1. Table of Contents

**2\. Seven Days Stuck With You [General]**

_Applicable Tags: Fluff, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin_

Trapped in his home, Rowan learns to cope.

 

**3\. It’s Only Fair [Explicit]**

_Applicable Tags: Bondage, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin_

Last time Rowan treated Mora so nicely… It’s time Mora returned the favor. It’s only fair.

 

 

 

**After the events of 'Forgetting' so potential spoilers on further chapters... I don't think it helps that I haven't actually finished 'Forgetting' yet...**

 

**4\. A Night to Remember [Explicit]**

_Applicable Tags: dub-con, gender swapping, gender transformation, Sanguine/female dovahkin, Hermaeus Mora/female dovahkin, tentacle sex_

Mora’s got a tasty new thing that he hasn’t been sharing. Sanguine, tired of always being left out, decides to take matters into his own hands. It’s up to Mora to try and deal with the resulting fallout – obviously as the better Daedra.

 

**5\. Dragon's Tongue [Mature]**

_Applicable Tags: Hermaeus Mora/male dovahkiin, implied tentacle sex_

As the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, Mora is in the constant search for new experiences. Maybe even making old ones better... unfortunately for Rowan.

 

**6\. A Daedra's Heart [Mature]**

_Applicable tags: Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin, Hermaeus Mora/Jyggalag, Mephala_

When there is suddenly more than one lover, sparks are bound to fly.

 

**7\. Birthday Boys [Explicit]**

_Applicable tags: incest, twincest, threesome, borderline dub-con, roleplaying, Sanguine/Male Dovahkiin/Male OC, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin_

Despite how long Mora’s known Rowan, he still doesn’t know everything. When yet another of the Nord’s birthdays approach, Mora decides to ask the only person who could possibly know Rowan better… his brother.

 

**8\. I’m Still Here [Teen]**

_Applicable tags: Fluff, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkin, mention of character death_

A death of a friend is never easy. It's even tougher when it's the death of someone close.

 

**9\. How to Train Your Squid [General]**

_Applicable tags: Fluff_

Rowan still has some leftover things he has to deal with, and it doesn’t help that his new housemate isn’t exactly the most agreeable.

 

**10\. The Squirrel Queen [Explicit]**

_Applicable tags: Hermaeus Mora/Rowan, and Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin (Rowan) >> Jyggalag/Hermaeus Mora/Dovahkiin (still Rowan), Threesome, gender swapping, gender transformation, Sheogorath, Dyus_

Echoes of left behind feelings cause problems for the future. Can two rivals set aside their differences and come together to save their shared love interest?

 

**11\. The Makings of an Immortal [Teen]**

_Applicable tags: Dyus, Jyggalag_

“You just can’t stop dying, can you?” A pre-immortal Dyus and his pre-cursed Master.

 

**12\. Glaring [Explicit]**

_Applicable tags: Female Dovahkiin/Jyggalag, Male Dovahkiin/Hermaeus Mora, Sanguine, implied rape, gender swapping, gender transformation_

Jyggalag can’t put his finger on what is so attractive about Rowan… Sanguine decides to pitch in, though the Daedric Prince of Debauchery has his own motivations for ‘helping’.

 

**13\. The Aftermath [Explicit]**

_Applicable tags: Female Dovahkiin/Jyggalag, gender swapping, gender transformation, dub-con_

It has been a week since Rowan last dealt with the Daedric Prince of Order. He thought it would the last time. He wasn’t that fortunate, but then again… neither was Jyggalag.

 

**14\. Among Enemies [Mature]**

_Applicable tags: gender swapping, gender transformation, angst, brief self-harm_

Thalmor, Dragons, chaos, Daedra.

 

**15\. Beauty and the Beasts [Explicit]**

_Applicable tags: Jyggalag/Hermaeus Mora, Fem Dragonborn/Jyggalag, Male Dragonborn/Jyggalag, Molag Bal, Dyus, dub-con, gender swapping, gender transformation_

Where there's a beauty, there is bound to be a few beasts lying in wait. Jyggalag never thought he'd be on the receiving end of that attention.

 

**16\. Beauty and the Beasts Pt. 2 [Explicit]**

_Applicable tags: Female Dragonborn/Jyggalag, Male Dragonborn/Jyggalag, gender swapping, gender transformation, Dyus_

A few things went unsaid. It's time that they come to light.

 

**17\. Every Coin has Two Sides [Explicit]**

_Applicable tags: Jyggalag/Male Dovahkiin, Jyggalag/Mephala, non-con, dub-con_

Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes have dire consequences.

 

**18\. Leaving a Mark [Mature]**

_Applicable tags: Jyggalag/Male Dovahkiin, Dyus_

Rowan’s returned from Mephala’s fix-it session. Is Jyggalag prepared to see him again after what he did? Maybe Dyus can help.

 

**19\. A Daedric Vacation [Explicit]**

_Applicable Tags: Bondage, tentacles, threesome, gender swapping, gender transformation, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin, Hermaeus Mora/Female Dovahkiin, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin/Jyggalag, Sheogorath, Dyus_

What’s a vacation for one, might not be for another. Rowan must contend with his greatest foe yet… the summer heat.

 

**20\. Running the Gauntlet [Explicit] *NEW***

_Applicable Tags: _Jyggalag/Male Dovahkiin, Jyggalag/Female Dovahkiin, Jyggalag/Male Dovahkiin/Hermaeus Mora, gender transformation, gender swapping, light bondage, tentacles__

Rowan catches Jyggalag about to head out on an expedition. Jyggalag, not prepared for the tag-along, changes his goals.

 

**21\. Child Surprise [General]**

_Applicable Tags: Fluff, Jyggalag, Hermaeus Mora, Male Dovahkiin_

Rowan thought he had gotten used to all the weirdness a Daedric Prince could throw at him. He was mistaken.

 

**22\. Taming the Devil [Teen]**

_Applicable Tags: Fluff_

Sven never asked for much, and when she did it was mostly practical. A new dress, a fresh bar of soap. What she really wants is a new friend. Fortunately, Jyggalag knows how to help.

 

**23\. Afternoon Quiet [General] *NEW***

_Applicable tags: Fluff_

It's a quiet enough afternoon. Might as well go for a swim.


	2. Seven Days Stuck With You [General]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Tags: Fluff, Hermaeus Mora/male dovahkiin
> 
> At some point in time this snippet was supposed to be in the main story of 'Frustrating'. Plans changed and it got cut...

Day one proved uneventful, save for the fact Rowan remained trapped in his home with one Lurker, one Seeker, and a Daedra. He had tried the front door, back door, and even the hatch leading to the roof. All were locked with twisting black metal. All impossible to open, despite how much he tried.

Day two was when Rowan finally decided to do something about it. ‘Doing something’ for Rowan, meant confronting the Daedra that had undoubtedly trapped him in the first place.

“Mora!” he shouted to the Daedra sitting perched in a chair just outside of Rowan’s personal library. “I have a few choice words for you…”

Mora didn't even look up from the book he was reading; he just flipped a page and continued on. Rowan stopped, his accusing finger hovering a foot away from the Daedra. He hadn't expected being ignored, dismissed likely, but not ignored. The Daedra's behavior left him stumped and he trudged away slightly annoyed, thumbs looped into his belt. He kicked a nearby wall for good measure, but even the plaster had been reinforced, so all he ended up doing was hurting his foot instead.

Day three came and went with the same result of the day before. But, just to mix things up, he threw a book at the Daedra's head – missing by mere inches. The Daedra looked up, though if he had been startled, Rowan couldn't tell. Mora drew his mouth to a thin line, squinting in Rowan's general direction. After a few moments, the Daedra sighed then turned back to his book.

The Seeker gave him a scathing look as it floated passed to retrieve the abused hardcover to put it back in its ‘proper' place.

By day four, he had given up trying to draw a reaction from Mora and instead managed to teach the strangely friendly Lurker how to play cards. The first round didn't end so well; the Lurker losing quite significantly, and decidedly eating Rowan's offending winning hand. The next round went slightly better, and Rowan successfully managed to keep his winning cards away from the amphibious creature’s gaping maw.

On the fifth day, Rowan suffered his first defeat at cards when the Seeker decided to help out its ‘friend'.

“You know Abby, Cloister isn't going to learn anything if you keep helping…  _ him _ like that…”

The Seeker chittered at him in response, likely not caring at all as it helped the Lurker beat him several more times.

The Lurker chirped loudly at each successive win, and every time Rowan swore he caught Mora glance at their table of cards.

The sixth day was when Rowan tried the doors again. And, like before, each tightly sealed with oily-black metal that he couldn't even chip through with his pickax. By the end of the day, he gave up the fruitless venture, casting one last accusatory glare at Mora as he returned to his bedroom.

By the dawn of the seventh day, he found himself leaning heavily in the doorway to the second floor alcove of his library, his arms crossed over his chest. “Could you at least  _ tell _ me why I'm stuck here?”

Again, the Daedra offered no acknowledgment, not even a snarky retort.

Rowan stood up and sighed.  _ He was so done with this. _ He stomped over to the Daedra, closing the short distance between them. The Dragonborn wanted a response, anything at this point. His fingers dug into the front of the Daedra's robe, hoisting Mora up to his eye level.  _ Let him ignore this… _ he smashed his lips against the Daedra's, watching as Mora's still expression went wide, his crown of eyes finally focusing on his.

A smirk stole across his face as he dropped the bewildered Daedra, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. Rowan left without saying anything.

The next day, he found the Daedra and his minions gone.

He tried the front door. It had been blessfully unlocked.


	3. It's Only Fair [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time Rowan treated Mora so nicely… it's time Mora returned the favor. It's only fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Tags: Bondage, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin
> 
> At this point everything between Mora and Rowan is consensual… Rowan's just a reluctant masochist, and will straight-up refuse to admit it if he's asked. Mora's not shy in indulging his Champion (and maybe himself in the process), even if a little force is necessary.

His own heavy pants and the creak of leather was all he heard in the stiflingly quiet room; the near silence momentarily broken by a page flipping.

_ Had it been hours or minutes?  _ Rowan couldn’t tell anymore. The lack of natural light threw off his internal timekeeping, and from where he was tied, he couldn't see how far down the candles had burned.

The humid air pressed against his  _ very  _ naked body - his clothes cut away only after he was wrestled into place. 

_ There was no way he would willingly strip down for this. _

Leather belts secured his wrists, one to each knee, and his knees had been wrested apart by a belt looping over the edges of a ridiculously huge bed - whose origins remained in question until recently.

Mora reluctantly admitted that his followers had their own initial ideas of how to worship their lord,  _ ‘But you’re the first to get to use it,’ _ the Daedric Prince assured him in a deceptively seductive voice, promptly taking advantage of the Dragonborn’s stunned silence to wrangle him into position.

Rowan's hard cock pressed flush against his belly, untouched and weeping, further ruining the black silk sheets set beneath his bent form. From somewhere behind him, he could sense the grinning bastard, hooded eyes focused on the quivering shape of his raised ass.

A single movement, no more than a twitch, and the slicked rod jostled within him once more, pressing up against that particularly sensitive spot and releasing just a little more aphrodisiac from its hollowed tip. A moan was half-dragged from his lips but he turned his head to muffle its remainder into lush silken pillows.

“Come now,  _ Champion _ … let me hear you.”

_ Champion _ . Now, Rowan  _ knew _ the bastard was enjoying this. Mora had already stopped using that name for him in their regular conversations. It was only when the Daedric Prince was…  _ distracted _ that it slipped out.

“How ‘bout we switch?” Rowan asked, hating how huffy his voice sounded. “I- arnrgh.” He stopped abruptly, having just lost his concentration and receiving another unexpected jolt of pleasure for the slip.

The Daedric Prince chuckled, the sound painted with genuine mirth. Rowan heard another page flip. “Perhaps, when you are no longer…  _ tied up. _ ”

_ Puns. _ Maybe the Dragonborn really was beginning to rub some human into the Daedric Prince.

“Weren't you saying how absurd your gifted strength is? Surely those bonds should be simple enough for you to snap,” continued Mora.

_ And here comes sarcasm... _

“I'm sure you wouldn't fare much better,” Rowan said through gritted teeth. Mora knew plenty well why he didn't just snap his bonds… The Daedric Prince  _ put _ the reason there. “After all, you were just begging so sweetly for my co-“ He nearly choked on his tongue as, with some outside  _ help, _ the rod was twisted deeper.

“What was that?” Mora asked with a pretend innocence, knowing full well what his tendrils were doing.

Rowan's mind blanked white, and it took a good solid minute before he could relax his restrained fists again. He let out a string of curses face first into the mattress, praying the Daedric Prince wouldn't hear.

_ But of course, he did. _

Mora clicked his tongue. “Language, Champion.” The Daedric Prince tried to sound affronted, but he failed miserably at keeping the mischief from his voice. “What have we agreed upon?”

“I… nnrah… work on… trying… gaaah… dammit Mora,” Rowan snapped, as every time something left his mouth, the Daedric Prince would give the rod the slightest nudge. “I'm trying to talk here.”

“And I am listening,” replied Mora, giving the polished metal another unforgiving tweak. “Do go on.”

“Ooooh. When this is over…” Rowan promised darkly.

“I look forward to it…” An oiled tendril slipped in beside the rod, stretching Rowan's hole wider and prepping his body for what was to come later. “But until then… where were you?” The Daedric Prince sounded disinterested as if he was doing all this just to satisfy Rowan, but if the additional tendrils working up the Dragonborn's legs to grope him where any indication, Mora was getting a little needy himself.

Panting harder than before, Rowan took it as a cue and mentally prepared himself for his next move.

_ The rod wasn't going to make it easy, but at least Mora had pulled back his eager tendrils. _

His muscles flexed as he strained against the bindings, earning a groan and an eventual snap from the belt on his right. In the same instant, the rod wedged itself deeper, applying a delectable pressure that finally pushed him over the edge. Fresh seed spilled against the sheets and his stomach, but his body was far from finished, the aphrodisiac was still freely pumping through his system. 

Already he could feel himself hardening again, even as he collapsed into his own mess. He never had the chance to test this aspect of his new body, but it seemed Mora was more than willing to help see how far he could push its... endurance.

A delicate touch traced up his spine, chasing after the residual spasms of pleasure that coursed through the Dragonborn's body. “Ready for more?” The asked words were soft and wanting permission to continue.

Mismatched eyes turned to the Daedric Prince, pupils still wide as saucers, skin still flushed rose. “I just hope your followers have good launderers.”

Mora snapped the book in his hands closed, nearly bouncing to his feet in his eagerness for the next round. “I've never asked,” he said closing the space between them in quick, yet restrained, strides. “It will be interesting to find out when we finish…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something fun I drabbled out.


	4. A Night to Remember [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mora's got a tasty new thing that he hasn't been sharing. Sanguine, tired of always being left out, decides to take matters into his own hands.
> 
> Mora has to try and deal with the resulting fallout as the better Daedra. Fluff snuggling at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Tags: dub-con (kinda? Better safe than sorry), gender swapping, gender transformation, Sanguine/female dovahkin, Hermaeus Mora/female dovahkin, tentacle sex
> 
> This was supposed to be another short drabble… that obviously didn't happen.

Rowan’s limbs felt like lead and his head felt worse. Not yet wanting to get up, he groaned and tried to wriggle deeper into the sheets to escape his growing headache.

_ How much did he drink last night? _

He remembered having a few drinks at the Bannered Mare before being joined by a strange, cheerful fellow.  _ Sam… Sam…? Who again? _ He tried the name on his heavy tongue, but instead of the right name, it came out as “San Guenne.” The Dragonborn tensed. The mispronunciation had been eerily familiar.  _ Sam Guevenne… San… Guine… Sanguine. _ He wanted to smack himself. The Daedra’s disguised name hadn’t even been that clever. Rowan really should be paying more attention. It hadn’t even been the first time he’d met the masquerading Daedra.

Rubbing the regret from his face against the sheets, he slowly opened his eyes – finding that his eyepatch had managed to stay in place despite the prior night's revelry.

_ Where in Oblivion was he now? _

A mist hung in the air, obscuring everything beyond the spattering of leafy trees and dangling lanterns. A breeze tickled the greenery, bringing with it a sickly sweet smell – though nothing touched his skin.

“Rise and shine sleepy head!” sing-songed a horned individual from somewhere near his head. 

Rowan craned his neck up to stare at dark skin and red eyes. “Where? Why am I here?” Sleep clung to his words, and despite the unfamiliar surroundings and company, the eye he had opened threatened to close again. He had never felt so terrible. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

A claw tapped his shoulder, the touches becoming more persistent as Rowan turned to dozing. “Come on, come on.” The Daedra, undoubtedly Sanguine, sounded impatient. 

Rowan’s blue eye begrudgingly opened again. 

“I’m so hurt that you don’t remember last night.” Sanguine chuckled, his gaze distant and reminiscent. “Oh, Darling... If I’d been mortal, I’d be limping for weeks after what we went through, and  _ you… _ you can’t remember a thing… can you?”

_ That  _ caught Rowan's attention. Frantically, he searched his memories of the night before. But, the Dragonborn could only recall fragments, and none were helpful in indicating events happened otherwise. “Then we…”

The Daedra’s all-encompassing crimson tattoos glowed brighter with Rowan’s growing guilt. “You can bet that finely toned ass of yours we did…" His eyes turned hungry as they trailed lower, lingering on parts still covered. "Though I have yet to actually get a taste of it-” 

Whatever else the Daedra had to say was lost. Rowan had stopped listening.  _ Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. _ Mora was going to kill him… or as close as the Daedric Prince could get with the Dragonborn’s apparent immortality. He needed to get out of here – wherever here was. Forcing his weakened limbs underneath himself, he rose from the gigantic mattress. The thin crimson blanket slid to his waist, revealing a plethora of livid love-bites littering his skin. There was another stream of internal cursing. If Mora wasn’t going to kill him before, then certainly he was going to now.

Hauling himself to the circular bed’s edge, the Dragonborn flopped to the floor to search for his clothes. All still miraculously scattered around the intricately carved bed frame – not that he had that much time to admire it as he gathered his clothes into his arms.

The Daedra merely watched his actions with amusement.

Rowan tried standing, only to find his legs refused to cooperate, that they wouldn’t even support his weight. 

_ Something was wrong. _

He’s had hangovers before, but nothing like this. He tried again, wanting some result that wasn’t complete failure.  _ But it wasn’t to be _ . In fact, the numbing sensations that he had dismissed earlier had traveled higher, paralyzing his hips. There wouldn't be a third attempt.

“What did you do to me?” Rowan struggled to even keep himself upright – the weakness having taken the strength from his arms.

“Nothing you didn’t ask for yourself. You were so desperate to know what it was like to switch genders. I figured why not indulge your curiosity for a second bout?”

The Dragonborn wanted to argue that there wouldn’t be a second round. That there shouldn’t have even been a first. But, he couldn’t get a word out edgewise because his throat had chosen that moment to constrict.

Suddenly, it felt like his skin was too tight, his bones too big.

“Ah, I was wondering when it would start.”

“S-Start?” he croaked out, Rowan’s voice barely recognizable as his own. The usual hard rasp had all but disappeared, replaced by a certain timbre that hadn’t been there before.

Coming to crouch over the Dragonborn, Sanguine stared with an enthusiastic eye. “Your transformation, Darling. Do try and keep up.” The Daedra all but purred as strong hands squeezed Rowan's thighs, eventually to work higher to knead his buttocks.

Everything was too sensitive, and every touch left a lingering tickle. Light fingers trailed up Rowan's spine, sending a volley of fire sparks straight to his brain. Rowan let out a stifled moan, the pitch of it much too high to be his. He pressed a cheek into the bed of cool leaves scattered beneath his flushed form. The sweet scent had grown heavier in the air, and a part of him wanted to simply drown in it.

Sanguine gave an appreciable chuckle. “I can see why you’re a favorite. Just listen to that sinful mouth of yours…” Firm squeezes returned to his ass, and a voice murmured into the pliable flesh. “This was glorious before, but now… really you are such a peach. It really is a shame Mora tries to keep you all to himself.”

Rowan felt himself being lifted with a contented sigh, the hand reaching easily around his front, copping a feel against his… _ breast?… _ as it passed. “What did you do?” he,  _ now evidently she _ , repeated with more coherence. Sensation was just beginning to return to her extremities and she offered weak struggles against her captor.

“I turned you into a woman, Darling. Just giving you a taste of what's it like to be on the other side.”

Unceremoniously, Rowan was dumped back onto the bed and she gave an indignant squawk before clamping her mouth closed. She feebly pushed at the Daedra's chest, trying to put some distance between them, but Rowan's usual strength just wasn't there – nor were her muscles when she looked to her outstretched arms.

“Sanguine, was it?” Rowan gave the smiling Daedra another push to try and gain some space between them.

“Indeed. Now… where were we?”

When her valiant attempts at holding back the Daedra failed, the Dragonborn scooted back a few inches. “I really should be going...”

A hand shot out to halt her further retreat. It wrapped tightly around Rowan’s ankle and yanked her back. “But Darling, we were just getting started,” Sanguine whined, reeling Rowan in closer; his hands climbing her hips until she lay sprawled beneath his shadow. “Where do you have to go in such a rush? To that empty house?”

Rowan stopped her struggling. She’d been caught in – dare she admit it – a moment of loneliness. Mora had been too busy recently. Apparently, something had drawn the Daedric Prince’s attention, important enough that Mora missed the last weekly rendezvous …  _ six _ times in a row. Evidently, Sanguine had taken advantage of one of Rowan’s resulting drunken stupors to get as far as he had.

“We both know Hermaeus Mora won’t be waiting for you. Why not just enjoy yourself? Indulge your curiosity where that  _ stiff _ has been clearly denying you.” It wasn’t hard to see how the Daedra was renowned for his smooth talking, his words just dripped honey. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on…”

The Dragonborn wasn’t completely fooled, but she had to guiltily concede – the Daedra knew what to say. “I’m sure you say that to everyone you try to bed.”

Almost tenderly, Sanguine brushed a strand of dark chestnut hair out of her face. “Try? I think that was a challenge I just heard.”

“Ha, you wish.”

“Don't be like that… If you're not interested, I shall... regretfully stop.”

“How surprising,” the Dragonborn replied drolly. “A Daedra with restraint.”

“I am no Philistine.” He sounded vaguely offended that she would suggest otherwise. “Do I have a yes or no?”

She was tempted to bite the finger that swiped over her lower lip, but…  _ it has been a while.  _ Besides, the Dragonborn wasn't celibate by any stretch of the imagination.  _ If a good time was offered so freely…  _ he-  _ she _ had to admit,  _ how likely would she ever get into this type of situation again? _ “I haven't said no yet…” she decidedly answered, relaxing into the light petting across her softened stomach and giving a slight hum at the stimulation.

Sanguine's eyes widened as a playful smile spread across his face. “Oh, ho ho. How does Hermaeus Mora let such a minx run free?”

Rowan's mood begun to sour at being called a minx, but Sanguine was quick to repair the damage with a broad hand working down her belly to reach somewhere sensitive and foreign between her legs.

She gasped as the first finger breached her heat – the feeling of it so strange, yet entirely wanted.

His finger curled deep inside her, rubbing her tight walls in all the right places. “Blimey,” Sanguine said with slight admiration in his voice. “I forgot you would be a virgin…” His eyes turned predatory as he further teased her private place with another digit.

Her back arched under the skillful ministrations, and Rowan could hardly restrain the shameful sounds as he continued to fuck her on his thick fingers. 

_ Talos. This isn’t the same. _

She was much more sensitive than she was as a man. It wasn’t just some special spot that was responsive.  _ Everything _ seemed to respond to the barrage of fingers sliding in and out of her hole. Rowan clawed desperately at the sheets, at her face. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the only thing they could; her eyepatch.

“You’re so wet for me,” the Daedra purred, lowering his head to lick her inner thigh. “I can’t wait to taste you. I bet you’re just as delightful as you smell.”

Another thrust of his dexterous fingers and Rowan had ripped the strap of leather from her face with a shout.

Sanguine stilled, his gaze snapping up at the sound of shredding leather. Almost immediately after, a fearful expression replaced the one of self-satisfaction the Daedra wore as he caught sight of Rowan’s once hidden Daedric eye. The yellow-green orb peered down expectantly at Sanguine, and the Daedra visibly paled.

With swift moments, he freed his hand from her to reach around and clamp his other palm across her eyes. She whimpered at the loss, pride all but abandoned, as he proceeded to whisper nonsensical assurances into her ear. A band of thick cloth wrapped itself around her head, and Rowan could feel the Daedra relax slightly beside her as his hand slid first to her lips, then retreat back to the expanse of her bare torso. He traced his thumbs along her inner thighs, spreading her legs wider so he could dive in between, fingers and tongue continuing where they had left off.

It was hard to even just form an intelligible thought with the Daedra’s attentive actions, the prior rough handling all but forgotten. She twisted, her body clenching around the intrusions as her hands shot out for some sort of mainstay. Thornless vines were quick to oblige, twining through her fingers to eventually hold fast around her wrists. The Daedra was relentless, not even letting up as the air grew colder, the heavy sweet scent dulled with the chill.

“Where. Is.  _ He _ ?” came a booming drawl. The voice's suppressed rage was palatable.

Pulling away, Sanguine left her a mess of trembling limbs as he turned his focus to their visitor. “Where is who now?” She could feel his fingers return to dig into her rounded hips.

There was a recognizable growl. “It has taken me  _ six _ miserable weeks to deal with the last of your…  _ shenanigans. _ Do NOT test me.”

_ What…? Then that meant… _

Before Rowan's thoughts could solidify into anger, something thick and hard slammed into her, splitting her open around its girth and effectively silencing her behind a series of pleasured moans.

“Well as you can see,  _ he's  _ not here,” stated Sanguine nonchalantly, pounding a few more times into her velvet heat for good measure.

Sounding just a little distracted, Mora repeated, “Then where is he?”

She wanted to shout out that she was here, but words escaped her as her mind gave in to the intense arousal sparking through her system. Rowan writhed against the sensations and against the bindings holding her arms.

_ She wanted her hands free. _

“Who knows?” A hand pressed firmly down on her stomach as the Daedra gave a blatant shrug. “You're upsetting my companion.” Sanguine’s thumb rubbed softly beneath her breast. 

She guessed the action was supposed to be soothing, but as Rowan felt Mora's presence begin to retreat, it was anything but.

Lashing out against the other Daedra, the Dragonborn managed to free a hand. Sanguine was quick to stop Rowan from reaching for the blindfold, and they wrestled briefly before he managed to successfully wrangle Rowan's arm back above her head.

Rowan's only consolation was that Mora was no longer leaving – his fickle curiosity roused by the brief bout of defiance. “Are you having troubles with your whore Sanguine?”

_ Whore? _ Rowan was slightly hurt by the accusation, though getting caught in such a compromising situation did little to confirm otherwise.

“Trouble? Not at all…” She could feel the Daedra shift, his thick member wedging itself delightfully deeper, convincing her body back to a mute complacency.

“Really?” Somehow Mora sounded skeptical. “Who is that, Sanguine?”

_ Why in Oblivion did Mora sound so interested? Wasn't he looking for her male half? _

Despite herself, Rowan couldn't help feeling betrayed, that she-  _ he _ was no longer special, even if he technically cheated first. Guilt crawled back up his throat, and Sanguine's grip tightened ever so slightly as the Daedra's cock grew even thicker. The pleasant stretch chased her remaining sense away.

“No one…”

“No one, is it? Then you wouldn't mind me investigating.”

Sanguine was about to argue, but before he could get a word in edgewise, he was ripped away, the large presence inside of her disappearing with the Daedra. She mewled at the loss, her body twitching with residual pleasure.

Rowan wasn’t to be abandoned for long.

In the Daedra’s place, a much larger weight settled astride her. She knew it was Mora, and the closeness sent a shiver up her back. Heavy tendrils licked up her sides, exploring every inch of her exploited body as lingering touches traveled over the red blemishes scattered across her flesh. “Seems like you have been thorough…”

The other Daedra merely hummed, the noise nearly hesitant and growing quickly distant.

A few tendrils slithered up around her throat, and another few stroked her flush cheeks. With a simple tug, the blindfold fell away. Her mismatched eyes peered up at the hovering Daedric Prince, and the amalgamation of tendrils and eyes looked briefly stunned before something much darker flitted across them.

Perhaps, Rowan should have shown a little concern when she was revealed to Mora, but she was currently too blissed out to care. Instead, she flashed a dazed smile. “Long time, no see…” Rowan rasped, her voice hoarse from prior abuse. She raised a hand towards the hovering mass of black tendrils and a tentative appendage wrapped around the extended limb in return.

Sanguine didn't make it far before a different tendril wrapped around his neck, and Rowan watched with hazy interest as the Daedra was dragged back from where he had tried to escape. All that mattered was she was safe, that her…  _ mate _ would deal with things now.

* * *

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Mora, giving Sanguine a good shake.

Pawing at Mora’s tendril wrapped around his throat, Sanguine croaked out, “What is what?” The tendril wasn't yet tight enough to be a real threat, other than making it difficult to talk, but that could change at a moment’s notice. It all depended on how much longer Mora could maintain control with Rowan's heady musk wafting through the air, his possessive desires straining against the bindings of his mental discipline. The scent was so wanting… so willing… so…  _ tantalizing.  _ Sanguine must have done more than just change the Nord's gender.  _ Rowan wouldn't smell so sweetly otherwise. _

“What did you do to my m- champion?” he asked, quickly cutting off the accidental slip. It didn't matter that they hadn't officially bonded yet, that Rowan was hesitant on resuming a more serious relationship after the Nord's last one fell through. 

_ The less Sanguine knew the better. _

“Well, you know...”

“No. I. Don't.” Mora's tendrils tightened. The scent in the air was heavier now, prying to free instincts he had thought he buried from last time. He'd have to end this little affair soon or end up losing himself – regardless of Rowan's continued silence. Only the lingering touch of his – Mora had to shake his thoughts –  _ his champion _ put that small needling part of Mora's mind at ease. His tendrils tightened around the other Daedric Prince once more; Sanguine's scent mixing with Rowan's was becoming... distasteful.

Sanguine's groping grew more frenzied with the increased pressure. “Okay, okay...” he gasped. “I may have tampered with the drinks... slightly. Just... gaaack... enough to make things more interesting.”

“With what?”

“... Just... a little furtherance. Something that could uncap all those… emotional barriers the Nord has... well  _ had. _ Thought maybe to loosen the fellow up a bit...” The other Daedric Prince swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. “You wouldn't believe... the amount of self-doubt I had to wade through to get to... the fun bi-”

Mora had heard enough. His tendrils constricted, and there was a sickening crack as the other Daedric Prince's neck snapped. Sanguine's constructed body died almost instantly, landing gracelessly to the ground in a broken heap. For added measure, Mora speared the limp corpse, splattering bits of gore and crimson against his tendrils as he retracted them.

Rowan uttered a surprised sound and cringed away from the splashing viscera – though she didn't retreat far from Mora's grip. A few soothing touches and Rowan relaxed back, nuzzling sleepily into his hold and emitting a cocktail of pleasant pheromones with a contented sigh. Both of which, did miserable things to Mora’s self-control.

As much as the Daedric Prince could appreciate Rowan's newfound open affections, he knew the openness wasn't truly genuine. That they were by-products of whatever Sanguine had slipped the Nord and the over-sensitivity of a forced transformation. _ But... _ he still couldn't help the small pang of possessiveness that overtook him as she snuggled deeper.

Of course, Sanguine's voice would interrupt the moment between them.

“Excuse me!” the other Daedric Prince called huffily. It would take a while before Sanguine could repair the form he was so fond of; so, the noise remained distant and echoey.

“Be grateful I have decided to address your  _ transgressions _ at that,” Mora replied coldly, his tendrils snaking around Rowan's body to cradle her closer. He wanted to take her away from here – away from the unwelcome scent and territory.

Each of Sanguine's Myriad Realms of Revelry were specifically designed to suit the needs of the other Daedric Prince’s would-be…  _ paramours. _ The one they currently occupied, the Misty Grove, had been designed with the intent of maintaining the similar feel of Skyrim. Mora felt just the slightest twinge of jealousy he couldn't provide the same isolated comforts for his m- _ champion. _

_ No matter,  _ his followers had provided a safe enough haven where he could secure Rowan, at least until her wits returned.

The Daedric Prince dragged a tendril through the air, its sharpened tip ripping through the fabric of the Daedric realm. With care, he carried Rowan through the opened portal, ignoring Sanguine's chasing complaints.

****

There was no room for jealousy as he dropped Rowan onto the waiting sheets. Mora's control was barely contained, particularly with Sanguine's obnoxious odor still wafting from her. The last thing he wanted was to have another…  _ episode. _

He wanted to leave. He  _ needed _ to.  _ It should be safe enough to leave her here. Alone.  _ The Daedric Prince had enough wards in place, and his worshippers knew better than to enter unbidden – especially after last time.

Yet despite all his reasoning, Rowan's alluring scent still managed to convince Mora to stay. How badly that fragrance called to him on every baser level, to just comfort and claim the naked Nord stretched out across the bed.

Happy rumbles filled the quiet, and it took Mora a few seconds to realize he had been purring. Mora stopped the contented noises, trapping them behind a wall of pride and dignity. There was only the small consolation that Rowan wasn't aware enough to tease the Daedric Prince about it again.

“Mora?” She shivered, though it couldn't have been from the environment – his followers were diligent in maintaining the higher humidity and warmth the Daedric Prince preferred. He traced a tendril along her jaw, and her breath evened out with the gesture. “Mora?” she repeated, reaching up between his many limbs and somehow physically touching his vaporous core.

He stilled. The touch was so foreign yet so deeply intimate. And, despite the underlying danger, he was curious to see what would happen next. The light petting grew bolder, transforming into firm caresses. Eventually, it led to insistent tugs and panic shot through him as he was yanked relentlessly forward and into the Altmer vessel Rowan's hormone-addled brain craved.

Mora landed astride Rowan, his cloaked arms braced on either side of her shoulders. His fine white hair slipped past his pointed ears to drape around them. His hood was the only thing that remained in place, its magic veiling his crown of inhuman yellow-green eyes from sight.

_ This… This was bad. Really bad. _

His mortal senses were swiftly overwhelmed, and his breathing grew heavy in response. His acquired lungs worked overtime, trying to draw in as much of Rowan's intoxicating scent that they could, despite the threat his mind supplied such an act held. Mora could feel his restraint breaking, the finely crafted chains snapping like brittle twigs. He tried once more to return to his amorphous state, but Rowan's fingers, deeply entwined in his robes, prevented such an escape.

_ How much power did his eye give the Nord over him? _ The question was as exhilarating as it was frightening.

“Rowan…” His words felt heavy in his throat. His adorable  _ m-mate _ was so wanting.  _ How could he keep resisting?  _ He wet his lips as hers reached for his, and Mora had to turn his head to avoid the contact. Just a simple touch could have him crumbling and wanting more. Mora swallowed thickly, resisting the insistent urge to just smother Rowan with the attention she so rightly craved.

_ Now he knew what Rowan had felt like when the Daedric Prince had been in a similar state… similarly drugged by Sanguine. _

“Not… not like this…” he managed, though the words hurt him more than he thought to actually speak out loud.

Rowan whined – somehow still too prideful to plead, but not prideful enough to avoid grinding up against Mora's growing erection.

“No, Rowan. Knowing Sanguine, the concoction he slipped you was slapdash at best. Undoubtedly, your estrogen levels are far too high, thus promoting your-" It was Mora's turn to whine as Rowan had reached down, and slipped her fingers into the recesses of his black-green robes to stroke his hardening length. He almost collapsed on top of her, his rambling all but forgotten.

“I don't care…” said Rowan with an uncharacteristic pout. Her voice was gaining coherence, though not in a way he was hoping. “I want you. Now.” She turned her full attention to Mora's lower member, eyeing it with an expression of pure lust as she pulled it free, her hand forgetting its hold on his robes.

Growing breathless, Mora begged the temptress beneath him. “Rowan… please…”  _ He should just transform back. _ But, to do so now seemed an even greater challenge, and the Nord seemed to know it. In fact, she was taking thorough advantage of Mora's sudden weakness.

Thin, sword-calloused fingers dragged his hood back, his crown of eyes finally revealed to her expectant face. “You left me.” She spread her legs, her moist heat tickling the sensitive head of his cock.

Mora gulped around the hard lump in his throat. “Not… not by choice.” He could feel his willpower shattering like fragile glass. It wouldn't take much more to push him over the edge, and Sanguine's lingering scent was doing little to help. How he wanted so badly to mask that unwanted scent with his own. To mark Rowan as his completely.

“But. You. Still. Did,” Rowan accused quietly, tugging on his earlobe with the blunt edges of her teeth. “I waited… but you never came.” Her arms wrapped around his back and pulled his body down to hers. Her nose buried into the crook of his neck and she lapped at the sensitive patch of skin with her tongue. He moaned at the affections as he similarly scented Rowan's bared throat, and the Daedric Prince had to bite his tongue to stop himself from doing something foolish.

As he felt the brief flash of teeth, he knew the same restraint couldn't be expected of Rowan.

Regardless of his elven shape, it was maddening to have his bonding site played with. Rowan just didn't know – it wasn't as if mortals had akin mating rituals. There was another lick. A soft nibble at his nape, and a tempting slow grind against his pelvis. He met her eyes, the gifted Daedric orb peering back mischievously.

_ Maybe Rowan knew what she was doing… at least a little. _

His thoughts were once again chased away by a dangerous pinch of skin between teeth – not enough to break the pale-green flesh, but enough that his hips shuddered forward. “Stop thinking so much,” she complained, her eyes fluttering with the shared jolt of pleasure from teasing his bonding site. 

Mora growled, his instincts momentarily breaching the hold of his self-control.

Rowan wasn't dissuaded by his sudden utterance. Her hands glided assuredly over his leaking cock as they worked to ease it to her wanting entrance.

He hissed, sucking air in tightly through his teeth.  _ He was done trying to stop her. _ Instead, Mora let himself sink into her slicked core, thoroughly enjoying the tight pulsing of her inner walls as he plunged to the hilt.

She shook beneath his pressing weight, not from discomfort, but from the simple satisfied pleasure as he took her, filled her in a way he hadn't before...  _ Couldn't _ before. He reluctantly had Sanguine to thank for that – though not for long. Rowan would only remain a woman for only a few more hours. Hours, it seemed, that Mora was going to fully utilize to selfishly erase all traces Sanguine left clinging to Rowan's flesh.

Mora pulled back slightly, and let his robes melt from his body to form thick tendrils. They wavered only briefly, before caressing the soft being lying oddly pliant before him. The caressing turned exploratory, light touches around her small breasts and circling rubs against her thinner arms and legs.

Her shape was so foreign, yet every bit of him knew this delightful vixen was his, and his alone. The Daedric Prince surged forward, diving deep back into her core as she moved in sync to create a divine friction.

Bending over her, Mora stole sweet kisses from her lips, which turned into hot needy pants between thrusts. “Rowan…” he gasped between kisses. “I… I need to fill you completely. Will you let me?”

Her brows momentarily drew together in puzzlement, and Mora could see the gears behind her mismatched eyes working out how much more Mora could fill her. When realization dawned, she blushed and nodded slowly. Her gaze flicked away with embarrassment.

Mora was grateful for the permission. He hadn't lied when he said he needed to fill her. He had passed  _ wanting _ for a while now.

A tendril played with her bottom lip, pressing inquisitively against the dusty-rouge flesh. It pressed closer until it slipped between her plush lips, and past the row of her parted teeth. Careful to not cause any unwarranted discomfort, Mora manipulated the tendril slowly, the thrusts of his hips almost stalling with his concentration. The tendril slid further, over her tongue and down her throat – where it partially impeded her breathing.

Her chest heaved with the added strain, and her eyes turned back to him expectantly as a string a drool threatened to fall from the corner of her lips.

Another tendril waved brazenly in front of her, before snaking along the ridges of her hips to dip between where they were joined, and then even lower. It circled the rim of her hole, teasingly prodding the puckered flesh. And, not sharing the same hesitation as earlier, the tendril dove eagerly into her warmth, its tapered end burrowing deep.

Rowan squirmed at the sudden intrusion, and her teeth lightly clamped down on the tendril sitting between her lips. Mora moaned with the threatening pressure, and his hips jolted forward, earning a muffled noise from his ma-  _ from Rowan _ . He started moving again, working himself up into a pounding rhythm. Unabashedly, Mora chased the euphoric high as his motions devolved into a series of erratic movements. Hard and fast, to soft and slow, and then to some mixture of the two.

All equally satisfying.

Hands clutched desperately to his arms, and tears touched the corners of her eyes. 

Mora’s actions slowed. Suddenly, he was distressed that he might have gone too far.

An angry glare and fingernails digging sharply into his forearms told him he hadn't.

Each of her filled holes clenched and throbbed around him, pushing him that much closer to his climax. He could feel himself leaking – down her throat, into her ass, and deep into her core. She hummed and sucked, pulling more from him, pulling everything from him. Mora didn't want to be the one to come first,  _ but Oblivion help him, _ Rowan was doing her damnedest. He met her eyes, and clouded behind that look of pleasure was a smirk – small and nearly obscured by the tendril in her mouth. 

_ The little… _

Now, he knew. It had become a challenge between the two of them. 

He rolled his hips forward with a snap. His hands roamed up her front to pinch her pert sensitive nipples. Her back arched with his touches, and she looked so beautiful beneath him, so satisfyingly full as she clenched around him, finally reaching her orgasm. It was shortly after, he hit his, spurting heavily down her throat and into her lower regions.

Pulling obscene sounds into the pleasant quiet, his tendrils retreated to form back over his shoulders and into his typical attire. He slid in beside her, appearing no worse for wear – his shapeshifting more to thank than anything.

Rowan appeared thoroughly wrecked from their prior activities, and Mora was primally satisfied with his work. Her dark hair was plastered to her face as sweat pearled along her toned body. Her breath slowed from its frantic rate, and she looked absolutely gorgeous as her eyes fluttered closed.

Mora rubbed his thumb in small stroking motions against her belly as if somehow, he could will his seed to take root in her temporary womb –  _ not that Daedra reproduced in such a manner. _ He blamed his current form for such errant thoughts.

Absentmindedly, Rowan raised her hand to his, stilling his motions. “Not going to happen.” Easily reading the thoughts behind his actions, she gave him a sleepy grin.

He hadn't been aware she was still conscious, and it took him a while to respond. “Yes… Your metamorphosis is a transitory one, though I could prolong it…”

“No. Don't.” Her words were soft, tinted with the need of a long rest. A yawn escaped her lips. “I think my curiosity has been well sated. Besides…” Rowan turned her gaze to where both their hands rested clasped over her stomach. “I don't think I could look after another Daedra.”

“Nor do I think you could survive such a birthing process,” Mora affirmed. “At least, not in your current manner.”

“Birthing process?” There was a slight panic to Rowan's words, and Mora nuzzled against her in hopes of calming his  _ mate  _ – he was tired of trying to admit otherwise. “I thought you said ‘a union between us would remain barren'.”

“Indeed. However, I thought we were talking theoretically.” She relaxed at that, though Mora couldn't find a way to describe how he felt with Rowan's relief. 

He didn't ponder on the thought long, instead turning his focus to the Nord nestled beside him, breath slow with the starting of sleep. He would relish the remaining time with his smaller mate. Where he could easily hold his mate in his arms, nose pressed into the back of her head.

Finally, he could only smell his scent and hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mora's Altmer form usually isn't big enough to be a comfortable big spoon. He's indulging himself while Rowan is small enough to be the little spoon for once.


	5. Dragon's Tongue [Mature]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, Mora is in the constant search for new experiences. Maybe even making old ones better... unfortunately for Rowan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Tags: Hermaeus Mora/male dovahkiin, implied tentacle sex
> 
> An old oneshot I've been working on finally finished. XD

“Rowaaaaannnnnnnn.”

Rowan paused, looking over to where the Daedric Prince had just appeared; a ball of dread already building in his gut. Mora never stretched out his name like that unless something embarrassing was sure to follow.

“I found something interesting to experiment with…”

And then there was the word, ‘experiment’. If he had doubts before, then that word just cinched it. Rowan wasn’t about to wait around and find out what Mora wanted to share with him. Within seconds, the book he had been reading snapped closed and he was scrambling for the door – the chair he had been sitting on, clattering loudly to the floor in his wake.

Their rule was: if Rowan made it to the wooden post near his house, then it would be Mora’s turn to be the recipient of their little ‘experiments’ – at least until the next time the Daedric Prince was in the mood. Otherwise,  _ he  _ remained fair game.

Rowan successfully managed to dodge the first few tendrils snaking out for him, and he even managed to jump over the next few waiting for him in the entranceway. What he wasn’t prepared for, was the pitfall dug under his doorstep.

Without ground to support it, the wooden step gave way and he fell about twenty feet, landing on a surprisingly forgiving surface that cushioned his impact. The step clattered loudly somewhere near his head as it followed, its final nail having given way.

He rubbed his hands over his face, knowing full well he had already lost this round as well. There was no need to check the inky-black walls for possible handholds – there wouldn’t be any. The pit was impossibly smooth, likely dug with magic as it hadn’t been there the night before. All he could do now was wait for the Daedric Prince to come get him…  _ When,  _ the Daedric Prince finally decided to come get him. Likely Mora would want to let Rowan’s defeat sink in first.

_ The smug, snarky… loveable… _

Eventually, he heard the sound of Mora’s light footfalls, the Daedric Prince’s slippered feet padding softly to the edge of the hole like a contented cat.

Trying to appear casual despite his heart pounding in trepidation, Rowan stretched out and clasped his hands behind his head. “A pitfall? Seriously?” he asked as the Daedric Prince peered down at him, robed arms folded over each other. “You couldn’t think up anything cleverer?”

Mora laughed, his many eyes glinting mischievously from under the shadow of his hood. “But why would I expend the effort, when such a primitive trap would obviously suffice?”

“It’s not going to work next time,” Rowan warned, sitting upright and having to crane his neck up to continue watching the Daedric Prince.

“Perhaps, but then again, the simplest methods seem to work best with you…”

Rowan rolled his eyes. It was true…  _ to a point.  _ He’d just gotten far too used to Mora’s usual elaborate devices to anticipate anything less from the Daedric Prince. “You just going to gloat, or are you going to get me out?”

“Not… yet, I think.” The Daedric Prince’s notable smirk returned, and Rowan’s bravado faltered a bit. _Something_ ** _exceptionally_** _embarrassing was waiting for him…_ “I still won after all.”

“So, what is it this time?”

The Daedric Prince offered no words, just a simple hand motion that revealed a small recess in the otherwise smooth wall.

He hesitantly glanced at what Mora had left him. It wasn’t much, and the more he looked over the mix of dark cloth and ebony metal plates the worse it became. There was no way he was going to put the ensemble on. It would be worse than being naked, where he’d at least have some semblance of dignity…  _ This was…  _ Rowan’s cheeks flushed red, the color swiftly seeping into his ears. This was much more…  _ provocative. _

Mora seemed to sense his growing uncertainty, not that it would’ve been hard to detect with him as beet red as he was. “Is something the matter?”

“Was wondering where the rest of it was,” Rowan half mumbled, his ears burning an even more vibrant color –  _ if it had been possible. _

“’The rest of it’, is whatever remains of your dignity.” A wide grin had replaced the Daedric Prince’s smirk. Mora was clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Though it’s a matter of whether you still have it…”

“Oh, I still have it alright. It’s telling me that it’s in my best interest to not wear that if I want to keep it.”

“But I chose it especially for you Rowan…” Mora all but purred. “I know how much you adore your ebony armor.”

“How considerate,” he replied dryly.

“As I am always."

Holding up a piece of the limited armor, Rowan sighed. "I'm not getting out of this one, am I?"

"Not unless you want to spend the rest of eternity in that hole…"

While staying in the pit had its certain appeal, Mora would undoubtedly make good on his threat if Rowan didn't comply.

_ Immortality certainly had its own set of drawbacks. _

Seeing no other way about it, Rowan set the piece down and started removing his tunic, drawing the gaze of more than a few disembodied eyes lining the hole.

_ So much for not feeling self-conscious… _

Shucking his boots and trousers, he was careful to not make too much of a show about it, despite how much his audience of one was hoping it would be.

Rowan could handle putting on the limited cuirass and attached backplate. The first fit snugly over his shoulders and chest but did not reach much past his pecs, while the second fit similarly, leaving a huge swath of his lower back unprotected. The pauldrons weren’t so hard either, the leather strappings supple and easy to attach over his shoulders. Heck, even the vambraces and greaves weren’t that bad, the metalwork and the intricate filigree enviable, and with little fuss, he strapped the black metal over his forearms and shins.

Despite Rowan’s initial griping, a lot of work and effort went into creating the full suit of armor, and he couldn’t help admiring the craftsmanship.

His opinion shifted quickly when he began putting on the remaining pieces.

The faulds were near non-existent, consisting of only a decorative belt and two metal plates – one to cover each hip. The codpiece was absent, and the tabard was no more than a small rectangle of embroidered, black-green cloth that tied nicely across the front of the belt, to only somewhat cover his crotch. There was nothing else, save the continued heat on his face.

Mora had indeed outdone himself this time, and Rowan only had himself to blame for the outcome.

The last ‘experiment’ had ended with him naked, but Mora had not been keen about the rude gesture nor the several beers Rowan drank to get there willingly. Mora was even less thrilled when the ample amount of liquid courage had bolstered Rowan’s bravery enough to embarrass the Daedric Prince instead.

_ This… was obvious revenge for that. _

“Loincloth, Rowan…” came the Daedric Prince’s slow drawl, a tendril peeling off from the wall to give the final remainder of his self-respect a tug.

Rowan wasn’t sure if his response was a sigh or a groan, but it humored the waiting Daedric Prince regardless. With a final glower, he slid the last semblance of actual clothing from his body. “Happy now?” He crossed his arms over his chest, mismatched eyes refusing to make contact with the smug figure above him.

The Prince hummed thoughtfully. “It’ll do.”

“Good, because that’s all you’re going to get.”

“Oh, I think I can coerce you into something else…” A portal opened up beside Rowan, a decadent smell wafting from its swirling depth.

He felt himself start to drool. “You fight dirty…”

“I fight to win.” Mora tucked his hands into his sleeves. “Do I have your interest?”

The scent of sweet pastries made it really hard to resist, and he could feel his determination to not humiliate himself crumble. “Yes…” Likely, he’d be regretting things later, but that didn’t matter to his stomach as it gave an appreciable growl.

“After you, Champion.”

****

Apocrypha lay on the other side of the portal. A feast laid out waiting for him, but there would be a catch.

_ There always was. _

“So, what is it this time?” he asked the Daedric Prince who appeared beside him.

“You still remember our...” Mora paused, his expression flitting between guilt and nostalgia, “first.”

The guilt suddenly made sense – if Mora was considering  _ that  _ time their first together.

“Yes, annnnd…?”

The Prince twiddled his fingers together, looking far more like a prepubescent than the ancient being he actually was. “I was hoping I could convince you…”

Rowan glanced to his new outfit, then to the acidic pool displayed like something from one of his erotic novels. He was almost surprised that there were no rose petals leading up to the recessed black-metal basin.

“And, the food?”

“All yours; the drink included, providing of course…”

Rowan sighed, and the Prince hastily added, “I’ve also had a relaxant prepared. It should help aid the process. Less need for external stimuli.”

“Uh huh. Process being all those extra thoughts bouncing through my skull. All those authors, thinking who knows what at the time…”

Mora took his time answering. “Yes… But, I can assure you no harm will come of it. If you want, I can be sure to cleanse your mind after.”

Rowan eyed the Daedric Prince carefully as Mora’s form melded back to his amorphous shape.  _ Well… whatever. It was probably easier for Mora to ‘read’ his thoughts like that anyway.  _ His gaze returned to the pool ahead of him, and his thoughts to what he had just agreed to. He still had the option to walk away from this. He had yet to drink the ‘relaxant’ – if it was what Mora said it was.

_ But… _

He cast another longing gaze to the table laden heavily with sweets and various bottles of alcohol. Rowan could feel his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his upper lip.  _ There was something to be said for someone knowing you too well…  _ He ran a nervous hand through his hair, finally making his decision. “Fine… but I want a ‘safe word’ this time. This ends if I say it. I still don’t exactly trust you to stop when I want you to regarding  _ this  _ …” Rowan pointed to the pool.

The mass of eyes looked surprised momentarily but eventually bobbed in the air to indicate some sort of agreement. “Very well, what is your word?”

“Dragon’s Tongue.”

Mora tensed, the meaning behind the choice not going missing. While it had been nearly seven years since Rowan considered the possibility of a life with Lydia, didn’t mean he had forgotten the feelings he had for his once housecarl. “So be it.”

****

_ That... hadn’t been so bad. _

He relaxed a little more, sinking deeper into Mora’s hold as a few tendrils emerged from the murk to circle his limbs, to caress him as if he were a king. Mora hadn’t lied about the relaxant making things easier.

_ He could do this… _

Rowan changed his mind the moment the next page hit the pool. “Nrrgh. Fu-” His eyes shot wide as his back arched and he didn’t have to look to know how hard he suddenly was. The next page hadn’t been so much thoughts as sensations. Harsh, strong sensations that flooded his system with an intense pleasure echoed back through the Daedric eye in his head.

The arousal was still tingling on the edges of his mind as Rowan’s mixed gaze traveled skyward to the mass of floating yellow-green eyes. “Mora? Where… Where was that page from?” he asked panting, already somewhat fearful of the answer despite the tendril stroking up the side of his face to calm him.

“The Lusty Argonian Maid. I found this particular copy under that loose board you think no one knows about…”

That was when Rowan finally recognized the newest stack of books that had been brought forward. He recognized every single one, each well-worn from years of reading and rereading. He gulped heavily.  _ That… that had explained why the thoughts and sensations were so familiar… They had been his… when he’d…  _ “I thought you said that it would be the thoughts of the author? Why was…?"

“Hmmm…?” There was a sudden shift as Mora suddenly became more attentive. “You mean that wasn’t the author’s thoughts?” Mora asked with fake aghast. Rowan felt the smugness rolling off the Daedric Prince as a few tendrils traveled lower along his body, one in particular sliding easily between the exposed cleft of his ass; to just press against his hole, but not penetrate him…  _ yet. _

It was becoming fairly obvious why Mora had chosen this particular getup.  _ No undressing required… _

“You know… damn well, those weren’t-”

A tendril holding another page cut his words short. “May we continue or are you already having second thoughts?”

Rowan wet his lips. “How many of those pages are we talking about?”

“Well… I would love to make it through the whole stack, but I severely doubt your ability to get that far without…” His tendrils wiggling as he sought to find the right words.

“‘Without’ what, Mora?”

“Spending yourself. That was the limit I set. I figured you’d be more inclined to this in the future, if there was a set end for each session.”

“And you didn’t figure to let me know of this beforehand?”

“I admit... I was curious as to what you would agree to. And, you could have agreed to quite a lot, if not for your ‘safe-word’. I’m glad to see time has not made you… soft.” A tendril massaged over the untensed muscles of his arm, then slid to his other arm to do the same. It retreated to trickle curiously down his front, over his chest and the hard shape of his stomach.

Rowan’s breath hitched. Mora wouldn’t have to dip further to know what else was also hard. “Good to know.” He tried to sound indifferent, but he could tell Mora was smirking as the Daedric Prince sensed his lie.

“And, your answer?”

Shaking an arm free, he rested it along the edge of the pool. “I didn’t say my safe word, now did I?”

“Very well, Champion.”

Mora’s tendrils didn’t need any more encouragement, and Rowan just hoped he had enough energy after to enjoy the buffet Mora had tempted him with in the first place.


	6. A Daedra's Heart [Mature]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there is suddenly more than one lover, sparks are bound to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Hermaeus Mora/Male Dragonborn, Hermaeus Mora/Jyggalag, Mephala
> 
> **WARNING** Potential spoilers for 'Forgetting'
> 
> I'm alive!! But, I've been procrastinating on a few things... *twiddle fingers*
> 
> Jyggalag’s appearance is heavily based off of Skitamine’s beautiful rendition that I just positively adore.

The rapid knocking was enough to rouse Rowan from his deep slumber. It couldn't have been Mora, as the Daedric Prince wasn't known to show impatience, nor was it common for him to even bother knocking anymore.

_The current knocker had to be someone else._

With quick ease, he tied his eyepatch over his left eye and smoothed out the wrinkled tunic he had fallen asleep in to cautiously opened the door.

The tall, monochrome Daedra was not even close to whom he had guessed, nor someone he felt like entertaining for even a moment.

Pettily, he slammed the door closed. _Or at least tried to._

An arm had forced its way into the cabin and the shoulder following it jammed the door open further. Another limb snaked forward, the attached black claws aiming for his throat.

He backed up quickly to dodge the strike, but inadvertently allowed Jyggalag to push further into his home.

Rowan needed to find something to defend himself with. And, quickly.

That something ended up being the iron dagger he had been using to carve slices from a loaf of bread. He snatched it from the table and stabbed it forwards.

Jyggalag dodged to the side and grabbed Rowan's wrist in the process.

Quicker than the thought could process, Rowan dropped the blade, catching it in his free hand to plunge the dagger forward. The blade bit deep into the grey flesh of the Daedra's shoulder, drawing a stream of silver ichor when he pulled it free.

They separated, Jyggalag first breaking Rowan's wrist with a loud crack.

Rowan cried out but rapidly recovered his focus. He didn't have time to nurse the injury. He could only hope that it would heal straight enough on its own. "Fus Ro!" The th'uum rushed forward and caught Jyggalag in the middle, sending him crashing into the opposite wall and scattering everything and anything in his path.

There were a few blissful moments of silence as scattered pages settled, then the Daedra rose with a growl, shoving aside broken furniture to launch once more at Rowan with a short-sword in hand.

 _Rowan really did need to clean better, and mostly not leave his blades lying around too freely._ He’d have to fix that habit, but it was too late to regret things now.

He tested his partially healed wrist with a few squeezes. _It would have to do._ He switched the dagger back to his dominant hand and met the Daedra's charge.

Steel met steel with a harsh clang.

Jyggalag snarled, "You are nothing, but some pet… A new, shiny thing to eventually get bored of."

"I'm holding his interest better than you did," Rowan shot back as they briefly separated only to charge each other again.

“Yes. Good job keeping him entertained while I was otherwise occupied.”

“You left him!”

Jyggalag’s voice turned deathly quiet, the clashing of their blades almost erasing his words entirely. “I did what I had to.”

The seriousness of Jyggalag’s expression gave Rowan pause, enough so, the Daedra pushed his sudden advantage. A quick swipe drew a crimson line across Rowan’s uncovered eye, blinding him temporarily.

In his blindness, Rowan lashed out, and from the resulting growl, he must have managed a hit on the monochrome Daedra.

But, that was all.

Jyggalag caught Rowan’s retreating arm, wrenching it behind him and slamming Rowan against the wall roughly.

"You are fighting an immortal, boy. You need to start thinking like one." With a muted grunt, Jyggalag pulled the dagger from the middle of his chest and drove it sharply into Rowan's spine, just above his hips.

Rowan felt his legs go slack, suddenly unable to support his own weight. Only the Daedra pressing into him from behind kept him upright. "What did you-"

"Do?" Jyggalag finished for him, backing up to let Rowan fall to the floor in a graceless heap.

Quickly, Rowan’s fingers moved for the dagger, but a sharp jab between his shoulder blades stopped him.

“Touch that, and you will lose the use of your arms as well.”

His fingers reluctantly retreated. “What do you want, Jyggalag?”

“Hermaeus Mora is confused. I have come to make him see clearly.”

“Yeah? And you think by getting me out of the way, he’ll see you instead?”

“Your words, not mine.” The blade swung down aiming for Rowan’s neck.

“Feim Zii Gron!”

The steel struck the wood floor instead, phasing through Rowan’s now spectral form.

Before Rowan could grab hold of the dagger in his back, a hand clamped down around his throat – something that shouldn’t have been possible in his ethereal state. “Your tricks are becoming a nuisance,” Jyggalag growled in his ear, the Daedra's emotionless façade cracking. “As is your presence.”

He was lifted and thrown with ease, smacking hard against the wall and burrowing the dagger even deeper. Tears dotted the corners of his eyes as he tried for the dagger once more, only to be stopped again as Jyggalag crushed one of his hands beneath a black boot.

“You don’t listen very well, do you?” The Daedra observed, bending over him.

Rowan flashed him a dry smirk. “Never have…”

"Then I will have to do something a little more permanent," came Jyggalag's ominous response.

Rowan’s grin dropped as Jyggalag kept him pinned with a knee to reach over him. “What are you-“

Without mercy, Jyggalag grabbed the dagger pulled it free in a horrid twisting motion.

Rowan screamed then, the pain horrid, only to be replaced with something new. A crack of fragmenting metal sounded close in his ear, and a piece was wedged back into the wound. The dagger the tip had been broken from, tossed aside with a chasing clatter. Rowan tried to buck the Daedra, but without the use of his legs, he could get no leverage and only succeeded in tiring himself out.

Without warning Rowan’s head was slammed into the floor. Again. And, again. And, again. His nose had started bleeding, but it just made the Daedra more furious.

“You.” Slam. “Are.” Slam. “Nothing.” Slam. Blood was tearing down his face and staining the wood red.

He coughed, spitting up a wad of crimson that had trickled down the back of his throat.

More than a little defeated, the Nord had stopped struggling, only to be reprimanded by Jyggalag. “You. Are. Weak.” The disgust was evident as the weight finally lifted from the Rowan’s back.

Rowan didn’t even try to rise; too much hurt and his vision refused to focus.

The Daedra didn’t care.

In purposeful motions, Jyggalag fetched the steel sword to give Rowan’s throat an almost gentle tap before raising it. The blade hovered for a second in the air before it came slashing down, steel biting into susceptible flesh.

He was shortly touched by the kiss of darkness, to sink into its abyss.

****

A painful sting reminded him that he was still alive – though Rowan didn’t believe it when he first opened his eye. Rope dug tightly around his middle and his arms had been tied behind his back as he hung suspended. Another rope was hooked around his legs and tied to the tree’s trunk, holding him so he had a clear view of his cabin in the valley below.

“I wanted you dead, but there is only so much I can do with mortal weapons." Jyggalag sounded bored and slightly annoyed. "I suppose, ‘out of the way’ will have to suffice.” 

Rowan pulled and twisted, or at least tried as much before he suddenly jerked downward with a loud snap. Instinct had his heart hammering and he stilled as something sharp jabbed into his middle: a wooden stake, maybe a spear – it was hard to tell from just feel.

“Keep struggling. It will make you drop faster.”

He had to crane his neck up to notice the knife hidden amongst the leaves; its blade leaned up against the remaining rope. It must have also cut the first one earlier.

_Somehow, Jyggalag was generous enough to give him a warning._

“So what now, Jyggalag? You think Mora will be impressed by this?”

“You still don’t seem to get it.” Before his eyes the Daedra’s form shifted: white hair with a single black stripe melded into shoulder-length dark-brown; grey skin took on a more tannish hue. Hawkish black eyes turned sky blue, and suddenly Rowan was looking at himself. “What draws Hermaeus Mora to you? If it is your form he is partial to, I only need to look the part.”

“Good luck trying to mimic a dragon’s soul,” growled Rowan.

“Ah, but Hermaeus Mora has already established that Dragonborns are interchangeable…” The Daedra grinned nastily with Rowan’s face. “Do you suppose _Miraak_ thought he was special as well?”

Unable to find a comeback, the Nord simply glowered.

“Let me show you just how replaceable you are.”

The Daedra turned away and Rowan renewed his fight against his bindings, further fraying the rope holding him despite the threat of the angled spear below.

****

It wasn’t long before Mora appeared below in the valley, looking mildly frazzled as Jyggalag approached – still disguised as Rowan. The pair entered Rowan’s cabin slowly, Mora strangely hesitant, and for a moment Rowan _hoped…_

From his forced vantage point, Rowan’s eye followed them through the cabin's window. Watched them as the imposter eased Mora down to his single bed with no more than a simple push. Watched as Jyggalag, disguise dissolved, climb over… _his…_ Prince.

He felt the flash of arousal, the hint of interest, playing across their one-way bond. Then the unthinkable happened. Mora kissed him. Kissed… Jyggalag… _unabashedly,_ the monochrome Daedra returning the same affections with a tight embrace.

Rowan's heart dropped to his stomach, just in time for the frayed rope holding him to snap.

* * *

The pair parted lips with a small shove on Mora's part. "I've kissed you. Now tell me. Where is he?"

“Over yonder in those trees." Chuckling, Jyggalag gestured towards the open window with his head and wrapped his arms tighter around Mora to pull him closer. "I gave him a front row seat to everything. Though I suppose he did not want to _stick_ around to see what would happen next.”

Mora's lips tightened to a fine line as his eyes checked over the foliage, but he couldn't see anything, just the remnants of an old, frayed rope dangling uselessly amid the branches. He couldn't see anything through the eye he had given the Nord either.

_Rowan must still have that blasted eyepatch on._

He pushed Jyggalag off and headed for the door, only to be stopped by the other Daedric Prince tugging him back to his lap. "What is the hurry? If he does trust you, then surely he would be waiting for us to finish…" murmured Jyggalag as he nuzzled into where he had left his mark on Mora so many eons prior.

Mora twisted away. "What are you hoping to get out of this, Jyggalag?"

"You, my dearest Moralove…"

* * *

_'You are nothing but some pet…'_

_Shut up._

The spear had impaled him at an angle, its tip burrowed deep in his middle yet not enough to protrude from the other side. Instead, it had managed to lodge itself painfully against the back of his ribs as it caught his weight.

Wheezing, Rowan gripped the spear with his now freed hands and tugged. It moved slowly, his hot blood making its surface slick as he tried to pull himself off it. Sick squelching noises accompanied its agonizing removal, and it took several painful tries to get his paralyzed legs to cooperate.

_'A new, shiny thing to eventually get bored of.'_

_Shut. Up._

It came loose with one final desperate tug, and he tiredly collapsed to the bloodied grass.

He reached behind him with shaky fingers, finding where the metal shard was still nestled in his lower back. The skin had healed over it, sealing the blade’s tip inside his body.

Rowan growled, his frustration peaking. _He’d have to dig the piece out…_ _somehow…_ His eyes caught the glint of steel in the grass.

_The knife!_

It must have dropped when he fell. With desperate fingers he reached out, stretching to try and grab its leather wrapped handle. It was too far so he had to drag himself closer.

Shaky fingers wound around the handle, pulling the blade closer still. A quick tug brought a section of rope to his mouth and he bit down hard for what he was about to do next.

Metal sliced through skin, and it took several additional cuts before he opened the wound enough to fish around for the dagger’s tip in his back.

It took a few tries with his blood-slicked fingers, but Rowan managed to eventually grip it to give the shard a firm yank, removing it from where it had been left between his vertebrae.

Already sensation was returning to his lower half – the nerves repairing themselves quickly now that the metal obstruction had been removed. He kicked off what remained of the rope around his ankles and spat out the one between his teeth.

 _‘Do you suppose Miraak thought he was special as well?_ '

_Shut up. Shut up!_

He pressed his hands against his ears, but he couldn't escape the doubt clawing at his mind and heart. It hadn't _just_ been put there. It had been there for months… _years_ now, some small needling thing that ate away at the confidence he had about where he stood with Mora.

 _‘Tell me this isn't because I'm_ **_Dragonborn_** _!_ '

Words he had thrown in spite so long ago came hurtling back at him, as well as Mora's answering silence. Mora had only become interested in him because he was the Dragonborn.

_If he had been anything less…_

_'Let me show you just how replaceable you are…'_

It wasn't difficult to slide the leather eyepatch from his face, to reveal the yellow-green eye Mora had given him when he became immortal.

 _Had he just been another stand-in?_ _Was that all he ever had been?_

He could still feel the traces of arousal for Jyggalag currently straddling Mora in his cabin.

Rowan's fist clenched tightly around the eyepatch and he threw it into the surrounding brush. Without another thought, he raised the thin knife still lying in his grip and-

* * *

“He… cut it out?” The last thing Mora had seen was the steel rushing forwards, then… blackness. Part of him still couldn’t believe that Rowan would do such a thing to himself. _Yet…_ Mora turned to look accusingly at Jyggalag from over his shoulder. “What. Did. You. Tell. Him?”

“Nothing he had not thought himself,” Jyggalag answered coldly. “He has such little trust in you, Amour-a. Did you honestly think such a relationship could work? With a mortal…?” Strong hands moved to knead Mora's back, to work away the tension that had built there.

The pair had stopped walking.

"You just don't know him as well… He has proved to be an interesting… distraction," said Mora fondly as he subconsciously leaned into the touch.

"If that is all he is then…" Jyggalag leaned in to kiss him again, and Mora had almost let him, as he was far too caught up in his own memories.

_'You wouldn't believe… the amount of self-doubt I had to wade through…'_

Suddenly, Mora pulled away, knowing that what he felt was being fed back to Rowan.

_If Rowan had seen… then…_

His eyes shot wide, the pleasant tingling drying up almost immediately.

_What had he done? What was he still doing?_

Mora stepped forward at a faster pace, the thick foliage, unfortunately, continuing to make it hazardous to use a portal even if he knew where Rowan was.

"You will have to explain yourself when this is through, Jyggalag," Mora warned.

Despite his increased worry, it didn't translate well to Mora's own speed. _Curse his slow pace! Curse these stupid woods…_ Mora just hoped that Rowan was still there when he finally arrived.

* * *

And, he dropped the blade. Rowan's eyes closed as his shoulders slumped.

_He was such a coward. What was he hoping to accomplish?_

Slowly, Rowan brought up his hand to cover the eye he had been about to cut out. His eyepatch wouldn't be far. He could still cover it…

_Where?_

“Looking for this?”

Rowan recognized the voice. The natural sultry caress _her_ tone carried. “Mephala,” he addressed the newcomer, turning to face her and the leather eyepatch she held extended forward in one claw.

“Hello, Champion.”

* * *

Mora made it to the thicket where he smelled Rowan's blood the strongest, but the Nord wasn't there, nor was his scent leading away. He didn’t like the implications.

"He is not here… I guess he never trusted you…"

The Daedric Prince whirled, his tendrils lashing Jyggalag to the nearest tree. “I spared you from the others because of our history, but if you… _hurt him._ ”

“Like you already have?”

He didn’t have a response to that. Slowly his tendrils peeled away, to disappear back to where they had been conjured from.

“Yes,” conceded Mora guiltily, head turning towards the ground. “Like I already have.”

Jyggalag closed the distance between them and tilted Mora’s head back up, a softened expression on his face. “Then just leave him be. Do not hurt him further with your indecisiveness. Choose me.”

“Jygg… I.” His eyes drifted away. “I can’t... Please. Don’t make me choose.”

* * *

Mephala thought this would have been fun; an interesting distraction from her usual worshippers’ requests – even if it had been from Jyggalag.

_In reality, it had been none of that._

She sipped her tea lightly, eyeing the slouched form of her once champion. His gaze remained downcast, focused on his own teacup and saucer that had been left in front of him. He idly pushed at the handle but had never raised the quickly cooling liquid to his lips.

“It hasn’t been poisoned…” she tried, breaking the silence.

His blue eye rose to meet her gleaming red eyes, but his usual spark had been extinguished. “I know…” he said slowly, his gaze dropping back to the table.

Taking another slow drink, she sighed. “Then?”

“Sorry.” He raised the cup and took a sip – the actions oddly mechanical for the Nord.

Mephala huffed. “At this point, I don’t know if a ‘sorry’ is going to cut it. Especially after all the effort I put into getting you finally looking proper.”

* * *

‘Looking proper’ likely referred to the ridiculous outfit Rowan had been all but wedged into after he had been dumped into a huge bathing pool and mercilessly scrubbed pink by Mephala’s servants. It was probably the fanciest he had ever dressed, and he still couldn’t see the appeal.

The lavish, silk doublet pulled tight across his chest and the collar fit snuggly around his neck – its emerald material was laden with subtle, yet skillful, embroidery; the whole thing trimmed with gold edging. His loose-fitting trousers had been switched out for black-velvet hosen, and his worn boots for a pair of black, polished ones.

Even his hair hadn’t been spared Mephala’s forced grooming: being trimmed back to chin length, and hair tie abandoned in favor of a floral-scented product that slicked everything back.

_All of it completely impractical if he suddenly had to defend himself._

Rowan absentmindedly took another sip, finding the drink strangely soothing despite its bitter taste. “Why?’ The question left his lips before he could stop it.

Mephala gave a small puzzled hum. “’Why’, what? There is a fair bit you could be asking that about right now, Champion. Perhaps you refer to why you are here before me…? Or, is there something else on your mind? Maaaaybe something to do with my brother?” She put down her cup, to lace her fingers together under her chin.

He didn’t know how to feel about her sudden scrutiny, and he set his own cup down with a clink. “Fine. Why am I here?”

“Cheeky.” Leaning back, she seemed disappointed with his response. “I suppose you are due some explan-“

“Mistress?” A Spider Daedra had stepped gracefully forward carrying a wide, shallow basin. Unsurprisingly, she had come from somewhere above, as the room had no doors that Rowan could leave through. Though more surprisingly, this one didn’t share the same vicious demeanor as her fellow Spider Daedra, and he forced himself to relax.

“Hmmm? What is it?” Mephala asked lazily as room was made for the dish at the table.

“It’s the Bosmer boy, Mis-“

An exuberant cheer cut in from the basin. “Mimi!”

The following rapid flux of emotions across the Daedra’s face was unexpected, but it ended with a definitive glare aimed straight at the Nord.

 _‘Not one word,’_ it said.

Rowan decided to agree with it. The punishment for defying those eyes would likely far worse than anything he could possibly imagine.

Satisfied that he would remain silent, Mephala cleared her throat. “Sweetie… now is not a good time.”

_Sweetie?_

“Oh, do you have friends over?”

Her eyes flicked briefly to Rowan then back to the hazy image resting on the water’s surface. “Something like that, but Sweetie I-”

“Can I say ‘hi’?”

A hue Rowan’s never seen on the Daedra’s face touched her cheeks. “You just did.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I? Could I try again?” A light laugh followed that somehow made Mephala blush even harder.

Mephala bit her lip, an internal conflict running through her mind as her glowing eyes flicked between Rowan and the basin. When a decision was reached, a limb reached around and yanked him closer, his nose inches from the water’s surface. “Very well, Sweetie. He’s here if you wish to say something.”

“Hello, I’m Aemar,” came the overly cheery voice.

“Rowan, say ‘hello’,” Mephala hissed into his ear when he didn’t immediately respond.

_This was getting bizarre._

“He-hello, Aemar. I’m Rowan.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Nice to meet you, Rowan… But, you don’t sound too happy. Is Mimi being mean? I told her to be nicer to her friends.”

The look she gave him could have stopped his heart.

“No, no. It’s something else-“

“Okay. Mimi’s a great listener, so you should be in good hands… I’ll talk to her later then, sounds like you need it more.”

The image faded to nothing, and all Rowan could see was his own reflection staring back at him.

Mephala all but threw him back into his seat.

“If you speak a word of this to anyone, I _will_ personally rip out your liver and feed it to you,” warned Mephala as the basin was taken away. She relaxed back into her chair, the odd tension from earlier quickly evaporating. “Now… you know one of my secrets, I want one of yours. What happened between you and my brother?”

Rowan felt more than a little guilty for witnessing whatever that earlier show had been, so he relented with a heavy sigh. “Just realized how replaceable I truly am… that the only thing going for me was that I’m _Dragonborn_...”

Strangely, Mephala quirked a brow at that. “Is that so?”

Scoffing, he turned his gaze to his boots, his hands idly clasping together in his lap. “What else could it be?”

Mephala grabbed his jaw and forced his eye back to hers. “Has Mora ever bitten you? And, I don’t mean cute little love bits either.”

Rowan wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but he could recall one time that had devolved into: _‘Ow, stop that. Seriously Mora. That hurts,’_ and the focused, desperate look Mora had as his razor fangs refused to let up. Rowan had to nurse that injury for a week.

“Once? My shoulder.”

Her grin widened. “So he has… May I?” She leaned closer and tapped the same shoulder he had just gestured to.

Rowan wasn’t thrilled about letting Mephala near his throat but wasn’t sure what would happen if he said no. Likely, she would do whatever she had planned regardless.

He nodded.

She loosened the first few buttons on his doublet to bare his throat, and soon after, her nose pressed against the left side of his neck, then moved to his right.

As if discovering something outstanding she paused, then scented him again, repeating the process. Left, then right. Finally, Mephala released him and slid back to her chair. “I thought you wouldn’t have one, but it’s there… just _very_ underdeveloped.”

“‘Have one’, what?” Rowan asked cautiously.

“A bonding site,” she replied matter-of-factly as if it should have been common knowledge. Her grin turned less friendly as she tapped her chin with a thoughtful claw. “Want to see if you can make him jealous?”

“He wouldn’t… Jygg-”

“Then what’s the harm in trying?” Her fingers skated across his face to tug his eyepatch away – the only thing he had that had thus far remained unmolested. “Besides, do you really think he’d try marking you if you meant nothing?”

 _Mark…?_ Rowan’s depressive thoughts had to pause. He’s only been bitten once, but it hadn’t been the only time Mora had at least tried. Curiosity overpowering his hesitation, he didn’t try moving away as Mephala drew closer.

“Are you ready?”

He wasn’t sure, but… _he had to at least try. He wanted to know… Know if he was still wanted._

Her lips parted, and he could feel the heat of her mouth on his skin. The sharp pinpricks of teeth, tickling the junction between throat and shoulder as they pierced flesh.

Rowan hadn’t been sure what to expect. _Pain, mostly,_ considering the last time, but definitely not the pleasure temporarily sparking his system that had him trying to stifle a shameful groan. From the smirk crinkling the corners of her lips, he suspected it was a little something extra Mephala added.

Suddenly, he was yanked away; the chair under him sent skittering across the circular chamber. Tendrils encircled his hips, crawling up about his chest and holding his arms tight to his sides. Mora looked furious, but it was hard to tell who it was specifically directed at.

“It was the wrong side Mora,” Mephala teased, barely containing her laughter. “You had tried to mark him on the wrong side. His site is opposite to ours.”

Near immediately, Mora’s nose pressed tight into the minor bite on Rowan’s left then promptly shifted to his right to scent there.

Relief. Embarrassment. Anger. It was hard for Mora’s face to choose an expression, so it settled on something in-between all three.

“I can’t blame you though. The difference is so very slight. I doubt even I could have noticed if he hadn’t just been cleaned. Give it a few centuries and it might even hold a mark.”

Mora’s tendrils just circled Rowan tighter, one even coiling protectively around his neck.

“Come visit again, Champion. I do adore your company.” She offered a patronizing wave from where she remained seated. She took another sip of her tea, though Rowan was surprised it was still hot enough to drink.

“Over my dead body,” Mora quietly mumbled as he proceeded to stalk away with Rowan tied tightly in his tendrils.

For once, Rowan couldn’t complain and just let himself be dragged away.


	7. Birthday Boys [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite how long Mora’s known Rowan, he still doesn’t know everything. When yet another of the Nord’s birthdays slip by, Mora decides to ask the only person who could possibly know Rowan better… his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: incest, twincest, threesome, borderline dub-con, roleplaying (does it count??? I don’t know… I guess so? *shrug*), Sanguine/Male Dovahkiin/Male OC, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin
> 
> You guys have Skitamine to thank for the next slew of somewhat connected oneshots (as I accidentally contracted my soul to that particular Daedric Prince of Inspiration and couldn’t stop myself once I got started). 
> 
> Story short, we got to talking and I now have two other works that came out of that discussion in addition to this one. Each should be able to stand on their own, but they do relate back to each other. Enjoy.

It was Rowan's birthday.  _ Technically it was Bowen’s as well, _ but he always did dote on his younger twin, and  _ nothing _ was going to ruin the plans for this year's celebration. Not even the birthday-boy Bowen all but hog-tied and hauled into the first wagon that would take them to the Imperial City.

The city was still under heavy construction after attacks from the Thalmor had nearly destroyed it, but rumor had it that a few districts were already back to their old splendors. 

Bowen was going to take advantage of the timing.

“Why are we here?” Rowan asked grumpily as Bowen untied his hands, his similar ice-blue eyes locking with his. “The Arena District isn’t even finished yet…”

“Relax. I’m sure there is plenty to do outside of watching the fights…” Ruffling his twin’s hair, he easily tugged several dark strands from the stumpy ponytail Rowan had been trying to grow out.  _ Really… why did Rowan even bother tying it up? _

Growling slightly, his twin batted his hand away before retaliating.

With a grin on his face, Bowen ducked, barely dodging the hand that was coming for his hair. “Nice try, but nothing touches this coiffure without my say-so.” He smoothed a hand over his slicked-back hair to make his point.

Rowan tried again, but with a hand pressed against his face, he couldn’t get any closer.

“Give it up Rowan. Our arms are the same length. There’s no way I don’t know your reach.”

Relenting, Rowan sighed and tried putting up his hair again; the leather tie slipping once or twice in his grasp. “If we came all this way just for your ‘special’ beeswax, I’m going to kill you…”

Bowen hummed, drawing pointer finger and thumb to his chin as if contemplating something. “That’s part of it, but I heard that the Merchant’s Inn got in some of that Honningbrew Mead you like to brag about.”

His brother lit up at that, though he tried to keep the excitement from his voice. “Fine. But let’s make sure we can get a room first. It’s getting late and I’m not sleeping in the stables again.”

****

Bowen had a hard time containing his laughter. “I’m sorry Rowan, but you should have seen the look on your face when the innkeeper thought-”

“It’s why I specified we were brothers,” he explained pointedly, already exhausted with everything. “Not that it  _ helped _ any… First day here, and I can already hear the rumors. Whatever you have planned, better be worth it.”

“The night is still young.”

Rowan ran a hand down his clean-shaven face. “Let’s just go get your beeswax…”

“How ‘bout instead,  _ I _ go get my  _ ‘beeswax’ _ , and you can browse the stores. You don’t get out much, and you might find something. Here-” Bowen tossed a small coin purse at him – which Rowan proceeded to barely catch two-handed. “I have enough for what I need. Use that to buy yourself a birthday gift or something.”

His twin looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped. They both knew he would lose. “Fine,  _ A Fighting Chance _ looked like it might have something interesting.” He started walking.

“No stopping for any animals either!” hollered Bowen teasingly after his departing brother. “I don’t care how sad it looks.”

He got a nasty gesture pointed his way for his efforts.

****

Bowen leaned in the doorway to  _ ‘First Edition’ _ – Imperial City’s only bookstore _. _ His twin was enamored over some book, but from the angle of his body, Bowen couldn’t tell what it was.

“This  _ ‘A Fighting Chance’ _ ? An awful lot of books for a weapons shop.”

Guiltily, Rowan snapped the book closed and hurriedly buried it under a small stack he had resting on the counter beside hum. The top-most one read  _ ‘Fundamentals in Alchemy’ _ . Bowen covered his smile.  _ At least, he found something…  _

The clerk remained professional about the exchange, saying nothing as she counted out Rowan's remaining change.

“Got lost,” muttered Rowan weakly, grabbing the books and tucking them under an arm.

“I’d say.” Bowen accepted his coin back, shifting the pouch to a larger bag strapped to his hip.

“How’d things go on your end?”

“Good. I now have enough to keep my hair styled for a few more months. With luck, a year.” The pair started walking, pushing open the door into the early evening – the street lanterns just starting to be lit.

****

After a quick stop in their temporary room to drop off their purchases, they were ready for some night-time drinking.

“Two Honningbrew meads and a bottle of Alto Wine,” Bowen requested of the barmaid as he sat down.

The Imperial nodded, jotting down their order mentally as her dark eyes darted over the brothers. “You two seem ready for a fun night.”

“And it has only just started,” agreed Bowen. She smiled and then walked away – her hips swaying rhythmically to the bard’s lively song.

“I thought you hated mead,” his twin accused, his gaze snapping away as the barmaid disappeared into the gathering crowd.

“And yet, I thought on what better day to settle our differences…”

“You’re so full of shit… What are the stakes this time?”

“If you can drink more than me, I’ll pay not only for our drinks tonight but for every night we go drinking until Mid Year… If I can drink more than you, you get to pay for our drinks tonight. And, I am getting you laid even if I have to ask every fair damsel in here.”

Rowan ignored the jab at his virginity. Instead, he picked a loose thread from his tan tunic and dropped it to the floor. “A full month? I hope you have the coin to back that claim.”

“I don’t know... I might win. You don’t go drinking as often as I do.”

“That’s only because no one carries Nord Mead.”

Bowen twitched. “I forgot you still guzzle that…” Lacing his hands behind his head, he leaned back. “Still, I think your work is cut-out for you, brother.”

The barmaid had returned then, setting a bottle of mead in front of each brother, before placing cups and the bottle of Alto wine between them.

“Thanks,” said Rowan.

“Thank you,” said Bowen.

“Enjoy.” She left them to tend to the other patrons.

Bowen leaned forward again, the chair clunking as its front legs hit the floor. “So, what first?”

“The wine. The mead will wash the taste down afterward.”

Sighing, Bowen complied and worked the cork free on the Alto to began pouring. “There is more to a good drink than just mead, Rowan.”

“Yeah? Well, I have yet to encounter it.”

Soon two glasses, brimming with crimson liquid, sat before each brother. “After this, I’ll splurge on some of the expensive stuff. Then we’ll be talking.” Bowen took a sip, enjoying the smooth taste on his tongue.

Rowan simply downed his in one large gulp.

Bowen was aghast. “How could you do such a thing? Wine is supposed to be enjoyed not…  _ inhaled _ .”

“Yet, I’m a glass ahead of you.” His twin wiggled the cup and set it on the small circular table separating them. He poured himself another.

Bowen could only shake his head at his brother’s antics. “I’m going to regret this.” He drank quickly, taking large gulps until there was nothing left. “Pour me some more.”

“With pleasure…”

****

“Remember that mottled-grey cat you brought home?” slurred Bowen, not quite sure he should be drinking anymore.

“Slaughterfish?”

“Yes, that one. Rather apt name for it too.”

Rowan blinked slowly, his brows knitting as he forced his thoughts to focus. “How so?”

“That  _ thing _ of yours… was a cat in name only.”

A dopey grin spread across Rowan’s face as he raised yet another bottle of mead to his lips. “Naww… she was a cutie.”

Bowen crossed his arms. “To you maybe… I still have the scars to prove otherwise.” He awkwardly lifted his charcoal doublet to show off the triplet set of thin silver scars stretching across his chest, then tucked it back down after he was sure his brother got a good hard stare. “Why couldn’t you have at least brought home a fish? Those don’t have claws.”

“A fish wouldn’t have followed me home…”

“ _That_ was your reasoning? I’m glad then that it was just that monster.” His head sank to his hands with an exasperated sigh. “Uggh, knowing you it could have been something far worse… like a bear or a-a... a Land Dreugh hatchling…”

“Everything alright here?” The barmaid had returned to clear their empty bottles. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Yes, you can actually...” Bowen turned his attention towards the brunet. “I was wondering if your lovely establishment had a bottle of Firebrand Wine.”

“Ah, any Black-Briar Reserve?” piped in his twin.

She paused in her clean-up, carefully balancing the small collection of bottles on a wooden tray. “I’ll see what I can find; we don’t get many orders of the expensive stuff. You two celebrating something?”

“Our birthday.”

The woman looked surprised at that. “Our? Then?”

“Twins. Hard to tell when I look like our father,  _ and he, _ our mother.” Bowen said, jabbing his thumb in Rowan’s direction.

She seemed to accept the explanation, her eyes sweeping over them and somehow noticing the similarities despite the dim lighting. “Well, congrats. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

They watched her duck behind the bar, returning moments later with only one bottle. “Sorry dear. Could only find the Firebrand… the next shipment might have Black-Briar.”

“I’s fine…” Rowan tried, slightly dejected.

“Thanks for looking. I’m certain we can make do.”

“Alright. Just let me know if you need anything else.” Her attention went elsewhere as someone deeper in waved her down.

“Hey, Bowen?”

“Yes?”

“This ain’t Firebrand… it’s…” Rowan’s face scrunched up as he tried to read the label. “It’s Firewine…”

Curious, Bowen took the bottle from his twin’s loose grip and inspected the peculiar label himself. “So, you’re right about something at last…”

“Rude,” said Rowan, his head thunking against the table.  _ Seems like he was about to hit his limit… _

“Excuse me gents, did I hear correctly that you two have a bottle of Firewine?” The stranger’s voice was deep, and it startled the both of them.

“Ah, yes. By accident though… We were trying for a bottle of Firebrand.” Subconsciously, Bowen scooted his chair over to allow the stranger more room. “Why, do you know it?”

Stealing another chair from a separate table, the robed stranger joined them. “Know it? I brew it, actually. If you were going for Firebrand…  _ You,  _ my friend, are in luck. This is similar, but also  _ much _ better.” 

The stranger seemed  _ so sure, so confident. _

Bowen thought that was awfully cocky. “That is some claim you have there.”

“Care to find out?’ Deft hands popped the cork and poured each a healthy amount of the Firewine. 

Bowen couldn’t remember when the third cup had appeared on the table. He didn’t think long about it though, focusing instead on the wine’s arousing aroma. 

_ Ash and Applewood. _

“Interesting smell. Don’t think I’ve had anything similar before.”

“Wouldn’t think so,” the stranger laughed. “Give it a try. I can bet you haven’t tasted anything like it either.”

There was a peculiar glint to the stranger’s midnight eyes as he raised the cup to his lips. “Snowberries?” Bowen ran a tongue over his lips to catch any errant drops.

“Just a hint. Makes the taste more complicated.”

“What do you think Rowan?”

For once, Rowan hadn’t finished the drink immediately.  _ Probably more likely, it had something to do with how drunk he was getting. _ “Not bad?” There was another slow sip.

A brow raised. The stranger clearly offended. “Not bad? It should be the best thing you ever tasted!”

Of course his twin would rile a complete stranger in a matter of seconds. “I apologize for him. Apparently, the best thing he’s ever tried is  _ Nord Mead _ … It’s a wonder we’re twins.”

Eye glittering in the candlelight, the stranger seemed placated by Bowen’s excuse. “Twins you say?” The stranger’s lips stretched into a fetching smile. “Name’s Sam. Sam Guevenne. But you two,” her finely manicured finger drifted between Bowen and Rowan, “can call my Samny.” She finished by giving them a flirtatious wink.

“Bowen.” He bobbed his head in Rowan’s direction. “He’s Rowan.”

“So, what brings you two handsome devils to the capital?”

“Celebratin’.” His brother answered before Bowen could get a word out.

Bowen was surprised. Usually, it took a fair bit to get Rowan to say anything to strangers – especially to women – and the fetching thing across the table should have been twice as difficult to talk to for his hapless brother.

“Birthday,” added Bowen.

“That is something to celebrate!” Samny started pouring another round for the table, even though the brothers had only half finished theirs.

Bowen quickly covered his glass, stopping Samny from topping his up. “Ah, no more for me. I believe I’m hitting my limit.”

Holding the neck of the bottle poised over Bowen’s glass, she pouted deeply. “Nonsense. You barely had a sample.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had a little more than that… Had a bet running with my brother. Thought I could outdrink him… but the damned fool would rather drink himself under the table than admit defeat.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes as he drained the last of his cup. The empty, wooden drinking vessel landed with an uncontrolled thump.

“A bet?” She put the bottle down and leaned closer, her interest temporarily swayed as she laced her hands beneath her chin. “Oh, do share the nasty. What happens if you win?”

“I’m supposed to get Ser  _ Virgin _ over there, laid. Poor bastard has no way with women. Awkward as a mudcrab.”

His twin grumbled, “I might be drunk, but I can still hear you…”

Samny gave a sharp, airy laugh. “How many drinks are you behind?”

“Tied currently. Have been all night.”

“Well let’s make this the tiebreaker then.” A surprisingly strong hand wrapped around Bowen’s and drew the cup to his lips to tilt its contents into his mouth. 

_ He didn’t remember it being as full as it was, nor its scent quite as strong. _

A thick syrupy feeling replaced the usual sting of alcohol as it sank down his throat. A pink tongue darted across her painted lips as she watched his Adam’s apple bob with every swallow.

When he had finished, she returned their joined hands to the table.

“Ah, ah.” She scolded, quickly turning her captivating gaze to his brother. “You’ve had enough. Deal with your loss with some dignity.”

Rowan scowled but said nothing as his hand slunk back from his cup. From the thick rogue dusting his twin's cheeks, Bowen was glad Rowan was stopped.

_ He’d be likely passing out soon anyway. _

“There. Now how ‘bout we fix that virgin problem of yours? Joining us, Bowen?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Don’t make me beg…” She said it like he didn't have a choice, though...  _ How could he say no to that? _

The three of them rose in unison. Both Bowen and Rowan were led forward as if on invisible leashes, navigating the thrumming crowd with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible in their inebriated states. With the vixen leading, the trio vanished upstairs and into the room the twins had rented for the night.

A voice warned Bowen that he should have been concerned. That neither one of them had mentioned where they were staying for the night. That it was impossible for this land-bound goddess to know, and that something was very unnatural about the whole situation. But, that part faded from his mind when he caught the exotic perfume wafting from her glorious form. 

_ What was he thinking…? They must have mentioned something… _

The door closed behind them, sealing away the rambunctious noise of downstairs. “Now, what to do with you two…?” Her eyes swept over them like she was appraising fine cattle, a finger tapping her chin as she pondered possibilities. “Well, the clothes are a must go.”

With inhuman ease, Samny had simultaneously removed their shirts, leaving the pair dumbfounded and stunned as they were tipped back to the bed and their pants shucked similarly.

“Now that, that's out of the way...”

Bowen tried to voice his thoughts, but they felt slow on his tongue. He shook his head and tried again. “How’d you-"

“Oops. You're a tolerant one, aren’t you?” She loomed over him, the whites of her eyes flashing black. Samny kissed him then, her tongue easing its way past his teeth to wrestle with his own. Her kiss was sweet, intoxicating. So much so, he just barely registered the familiar taste of snowberries snaking down his throat to settle hotly in his belly. The wine's warmth chased away any doubt he might have had, and she pulled away satisfied with a hum.

There was an odd whine and she turned her attention away. “Oh, don't worry _Ser_ _Virgin,_ you're next.” The vixen disappeared as she tended to his brother, and Bowen could only chuckle at the used nickname as he was temporarily abandoned.

His gaze traveled the plain walls to rest against the starry sky above. A gentle breeze eased the heat on his olive skin but did nothing to quell the need building inside him. It was burning him up.  _ He needed something… needed, needed, nee… _ He groped for the nearest body, tugging Rowan closer to his lips and savoring the taste of Firewine on them.

Similarly feverish, Rowan fell into the kiss, allowing Bowen to delve into him, to leave brief imprints of his teeth against inflamed lips...

A hand carded through his hair to harshly turn his head away. “Don't forget about Uncle Sanguine.” It was Samny's voice, and yet the masculine burnt-copper hide indicated otherwise. He blinked and those soft edges and perfectly sculpted breasts appeared again.

_ He must have been mistaken. _

Bowen reached out and drew the minx down to him to suckle her plump bottom lip. The kiss deepened and he was rewarded with another draft of wine trailing across his lips. “Good boy,” she whispered, releasing her tight grip on his once-styled hair.

Luxurious crimson sheets pillowed his descent, and he had the flickers of a thought that this wasn't the bed they had rented for the night.

“Ready for more?” She slid back, her legs open and inviting, her hole already wet and wanting.

_Yes._ _Please._

He desperately wanted more and followed her naked body with his eyes. Rowan rose similarly, a mirrored look of lust shared between them as want thrummed through their bodies and heated their skin.

They hesitated only by who was to go first.

But, it didn't seem to be an issue for Samny. She beckoned the twins closer. And, when they drew close enough, she wrapped her hands around the back of their heads and tugged them the rest of the way. "Want to see if you'll both fit?"

The twins shared a glance, and an unspoken ‘absolutely’ was exchanged. Their broad shoulders touched, and for a moment the logistics of what they were about to do had them stumped.

If Samny was exasperated at their awkwardness, she didn't let it show. Instead, she slid between the pair and guided them to her core with a gentle hand, their erect cocks rubbing tightly up against each other as they entered her – Rowan from below and Bowen slotted between her legs in the front. The sensation was divine, though Bowen was beginning to have his suspicions that things were anything but. A quick breath of the floral-scented air and he stopped thinking about it.

He dove for her inviting lips and knocked heads with his twin who had the same idea.

She pressed a kiss, one to each brother, and laughed. “Oh, such needy boys…” Her hips rolled back and then forward, milking his cock as if using her hands, and he could feel his length swell further.

_ Though, he wasn’t the only one affected by her skill. _

“Such…  _ big _ boys,” teased Samny encouragingly, pulling a stereo moan from both brothers as her heat tightened and clenched. Bowen could only grunt under her expertise, afraid that any movement might tip him over the edge; it was all he could do to hold on.

_ The same couldn’t be said of Rowan. _

He came with a cry, his eyes screwing shut and his lungs heaving as his body shuddered. He looked an absolute mess, his hair stuck to the sweat beading his forehead, his hair-tie somewhere lost in their love-making.

Samny chuckled, pulling away and leaving Bowen still painfully hard. “Oh, darling… you haven’t let your brother finish…” Her eyes trailed to Bowen’s red pulsing member. “I think you owe him one. Besides, we have more than one cherry to pop tonight, don’t we?” She took up his twin’s lips, his expression shifting to one of bleary pleasure as a bead of red wine dripped from where their lips joined to erotically slide down his pale throat and chest.

Rowan swallowed – the sound deafening in the fallen silence. He nodded slowly, his gaze not really focusing on anything.

“Good. Now turn. Let me see what you have…”

Turning slowly, Rowan knelt to present himself – his rear raised ever so slightly and shaking with anticipation.

To Bowen, she said, “Now it’s your move. Your cute brother is waiting.” Her hand slipped around his, her fingers laced with slick oil. “Let’s get him ready for you.” She raised her hand, carrying Bowen's with it. Her fingers guided his to Rowan’s fluttering hole and pressed inside, one finger at a time.

His twin grunted as he brushed up his fingers against a sensitive nerve, the stimulation making Rowan’s body spasm with pleasure at each additional touch.

“Doesn’t he look beautiful like that?” she purred into his ear, pressing against his back as she coaxed his fingers deeper, to stretch his brother wider. “He looks like you, you know…? You are both so beautiful… Let me see the masterpiece you would make together.” Her hand fell away, taking her presence with it.

As if guided on puppet wire, Bowen held himself to Rowan’s entrance and pushed in. The oil made the slide easy, but didn’t stop the world-ending friction as he pulled out then slammed back home. 

The fire in his belly grew. He wanted more…  _ More. More. More. More… _ Each thrust, each juttering movement and obscene slap of skin, fuelled that flame, making it brighter, hotter.

Soon, he was nothing but desire and want.

“I told you. So beautiful…” The bed dipped with the added weight, as another body returned to it. “Ready for me, boy?”

Large hands held onto his hips, and an even larger member pressed up between the cleft of his ass as he was spread. He wasn’t sure such a thing could fit,  _ but he was interested to try.  _ Bowen nodded – too drunk on the sweet scent in the air to worry about consequences.

“Good.” Oiled-fingers stretched his hole with eagerness, scissoring and twisting to loosen him for what was to come. The massive blunt head pressed into him and sheathed itself completely with a solid thrust.

White fire electrified his nerves, and Bowen’s mind was completely lost in pleasure as he was parted. His hips jutted forward, striking Rowan deep with one last final shake. Moments later, he found himself undone, his puppet strings cut.

_ 'Happy Birthday, boys...' _

****

The nymph had all but vanished when the brothers woke the next morning – tired, sore, and with neither one wanting to move for the day.

“My head hurts,” Rowan bemoaned. “What… happened last night?”

“I- Give me a second.” Bowen’s head fell back to the pillow, his eyes screwing shut. When his headache receded enough, he pushed himself up again. This time more slowly as he took in the surroundings of their rented room. “Well, we’re naked…”

“Yes, we are…” snarked his twin, who only buried deeper under the shared blanket. “And,  _ why _ are we naked?” Despite the evident attitude, his voice was nothing more than a murmur.

“How much do you remember?”

Rowan emerged from his blanket cocoon to run a sleepy hand through his loose hair. “Not much… I don’t think I ever drank that-” A quick glance at his lump of a sibling, told Bowen that Rowan was about to be sick.

“There’s a chamber pot under the bed if you need to use it. I think it’s still empty.”

There was a hurried scrambling and the large lump disappeared over the side of the bed, taking the blanket with it. The sounds of puking followed shortly after.

When there was a pause in the heaving, Bowen continued – albeit slowly. “We had a threesome last night.”

The sad lump looked up. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Was it at least worth it?”

“Definitely.”

Rowan just sighed, possibly regretting his life choices, _or,_ _more likely,_ his inability to recall any of them.

_ Bowen would hold off on sharing about their Daedric bed partner… _

* * *

Mora pulled back from Rowan’s half-identical twin with mixed feelings. 

_Sanguine!_ _Of all the…_

“So, are you done or…?”

“I believe I have seen enough.”

Crossing its arms over its chest, the spirit flickered as it leaned back against a post.  _ Even their habits were similar, _ Mora mused. “You know, when you first came up to me asking about Rowan, I was skeptical. But, you really care about him.”

_ Where all of Rowan’s relations this brazen? Or was it a sibling thing?  _ At a loss, the Daedric Prince remained silent – not that the reason for his silence was obvious in his amorphous form.  _ Still… the spirit seemed to have noticed something… _

“Look, whatever happened… all of us in Sovngarde felt it. I could tell my brother was coming and then…  _ nothing. You  _ summoning me… Even asking about him… He’s never coming, is he?”

“… Events have made such things impossible.”

The spirit breathed in deep, despite its body having no use for air. “Is he happy?”

There was a long pause, but eventually, Mora found himself answering. “Sometimes. Sometimes he is sad; sometimes angry… sometimes… embarrassed… He is a faucet of emotion.”

Mora received the barest quirk of a smile. “I don’t know what Rowan sees in you… But, you’re honest. That, I can respect at least.”

Though he had no need of the spirit’s appraisal, the Daedric Prince nodded slowly.

“Just… be good to him.”

“Of course.” Mora dismissed the spirit and shortly after created a portal to leave. He wouldn’t be heading to Rowan right away with his new-found knowledge. There was something – more specifically  _ someone _ – he had to deal with first.

****

He made sure to clean the blood from his Altmer form before arriving at the single-roomed cabin snuggled deep into Skyrim’s wilderness. 

_ It would be… awkward to explain how it got there. _

Mora knocked, though Rowan said he didn’t have to. It was a day of occasion, and Mora thought it better to stick to courting traditions.

By the third slow knock, Rowan’s bleary-eyed face poked through the doorway. His left eye remained shut until he realized who it was. “Mora? I told you, you don’t have to knock…” Squinting, his blue and yellow-green gaze peered into the sky, finding the sun just beginning to peek over the treeline. “Why are you here… and so early?”

“Do I need a reason?”

His champion shrugged. “Not really. You usually let me sleep in though…”

“I have… failed in the past to celebrate your creation day. I thought to do something different this year.”

“You…” Mora could hear the gears turning in Rowan’s head as the Nord’s sleepy expression blanked. “You  _ wanted _ to celebrate my birthday?”

“ _ Want. _ ” The Prince corrected. “It still is your day of birth, correct?”

“Yeees…?” Rowan answered, stretching the word out. “It’s just that… nevermind. Come on in.” He ruffled a hand through his long hair and stepped aside, allowing Mora to walk past. “Sorry, it’s probably a bit cold in here for you. Haven’t got the fire lit yet.” Closing the door, Rowan moved to the far fire pit and set to getting a fire started. A small flame flickered from his fingertips and lit thin twigs intertwined with larger logs.

It was true that the temperature could have been warmer, but compared to outside, it was just fine.  _ Though, he wasn’t above the promise of extra heat. _ Besides, with Rowan’s back to him, it would be easier to get out the next few words. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?” Satisfied the fire would remain lit; Rowan rose back to his feet. He watched the flames for a few more seconds before turning.

Mora held out two parcels – one wrapped in brown paper, the other sealed within a tinted-glass jar. “A gift… or  _ gifts. _ I thought it was customary for such things.”

Rowan moved closer and took both gifts from Mora. “It is… though... you didn’t have to…” He started with the jar, tucking the other under an arm as he used both to twist the lid free.

With a jolt, he slammed the lid closed just as needle-like teeth went for his fingers. “Uh, Mora? Why is there a slaughterfish in this?”

“I thought to get you some companionship for when I am… occupied. Do you not like it?”

“It was just a little unexpected. That’s all…”

Mora made note to try and remedy that gift later.  _ Perhaps, Clavicus Vile would have a better suggestion… _

The Nord placed the glass jar on the table, giving it a sideways glance as he unwrapped the brown paper – this time with more apprehension. His eyes lit as he recognized the blue glass and floral label. “Black-Briar Reserve? How did- I thought you hated me drinking?”

“I have exchanged… words with your brother.”

“Meaning you peeked into his memories…” Rowan said with a smirk, tugging the rest of the paper away and appraising the weight in his hands. “Likely, that trip to the Imperial City. It was Bowen’s favorite.”

“Well, yes. That is the most efficient way to exchange information.”

“I’m guessing it was informative then?”

“Quite. I’m curious though. What was the book you hid from your brother?”

Faster than he could blink, Rowan’s face lit bright red. “Don’t remember…” His gaze shifted away, unintentionally leading Mora’s sight to a book with a fairly cracked spine sitting tucked into a small bookcase – currently doubling as a nightstand in the cramped space.

“Really?” A tendril snuck around to snatch the aged book before Rowan had a chance to hide it. “Would this be it?” The tendril shifted to allow the embossed title,  _ Thief of Virtue, _ to show proudly _. _

The red had traveled from Rowan's cheeks to dust his ears and neck. He swallowed thickly and avoided eye-contact.

“How many times have you delved into this particularly choice piece of literature?” The answer was clear enough – what with the book’s frequent dog-earring – but Mora liked watching his champion squirm with embarrassment.

“Once… or twice…” he answered nervously, playing with the bottle in his hands.

“Really? That all?” Tendrils reached for the Black Book tucked into a satchel by the door. Its protective wrappings shed easily enough. “I have an idea. Would you humor me?” He nudged the Black Book against Rowan's chest.

_ Mora would leave the choice to his champion. _

Rowan sighed, but not with heavy-heart – amid the dusting of faded pink there was a genuine interest on his face.

* * *

Rowan had no idea what Mora had planned, but at the very least it would be interesting. Blindly, he agreed; not knowing what awaited him in Apocrypha.

A woman's boudoir was not what he was expecting... neither was the change of clothes – his set of Thieves Guild armor replacing the rumpled tunic he wore. In his hand was a bag, heavy laden with…  _ coin… _

_ Oh. Oh no… _

He ran a free hand down his face cool the rising heat and dared look up – already guessing what he would see.

Though the Baroness of the book was described as plain, Mora was anything but. She watched him from over her shoulder, a grin forming on her lips as she slowly pulled sheer fabric tighter around her body, the transparency of the pale green nightgown doing little to hide the unmarred flesh beneath.

“Doest thou come to plunder my virtue?” Mora asked coyly, her body expression hardly described as trembling – at least from fright.

A tendril dangled an open book in front of him, its tip pointing to the next line. It tapped the page slowly when he wasn’t getting the hint, _or... refused to take the hint._ _Mora was enjoying this just a little too much_. “Nay, fair lady,” he said, not needing to read the line. _He embarrassingly knew it too well by heart._ “Plunder be a harsh term to ply upon such a delicate flower as your virtue…” There was no doubt in his mind he was turning red again. He could feel the heat on his cheeks.

“I see thou hast made off with mine husbands precious coins.” Rowan looked deep into her inhuman eyes, lust peeking through the mischief hidden in those yellow-green orbs.

He weighed the bag of coins in his hands, wondering how much was actually in it, and if they were of similar value to the story. “Though... these coins are of rarest value, I have... now found a treasure that is... beyond all value...” Rowan wished he could have said those words smoothly, but his embarrassment was proving a difficult challenge to overcome. His floundering didn't seem to matter though – Mora appeared more than able to wait for him to continue.  _ She was going to see this through to the end it seemed. _ The book hovered closer in case he needed an added push, and he gave it a cursory glance to find his place again. “Tell me, oh beauteous one, why doest thy husband set seven deadly traps around these tawdry coins, but only a simple lock upon the door of his virtuous wife?”

Mora crossed the distance to wrap her fingers around the belt across his chest and pull him close. “Ignace protects those things that are dearest to him,” her voice dropped to a whisper.

Rowan stroked a thumb across her cheek, and she leaned into the touch as her eyes turned expectant. “I would give all the gold in my possession to spend but a moment basking in your radiance.” Though the words had been preordained for him, it hardly meant that he hadn’t spoken them from the heart. They rang true, though he hadn’t the need of gold to win the Prince’s affections.

He dropped the bag of coins, which sank into the floor unnoticed as they stumbled back to the bed to fall onto it.

The barest of creaks was drowned out by their desire for each other – of breathy pants of each other’s name, and of unspoken pleas. The memory of his guild armor melted away, but he didn’t notice as he claimed her lips with closed eyes. Her hands ran through his hair as she tugged him closer still, unwilling to let go. They parted for the briefest of moments, and Rowan managed to find his voice. “I don't think you could make this birthday any better.”

Mora gave a peck to his neck. “The day has only just started…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing a threesome... I still don’t know how it turned out… -_-


	8. I’m Still Here [Teen]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A death of a friend is never easy. It's even tougher when it's the death of someone close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: (disgustingly) Fluff(y), Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkin, mention of character death, (I updated the rating to teen because Rowan swears)
> 
> Pt. 2 of Skitamine’s an enabler (can be read on its own) Takes place a month or two after the end of the first part.
> 
> I did not come up with Squid, he belongs purely to Skitamine, she was just nice enough to let me use him!

He sat alone amid the tall swaying grass as a gentle mid-summer breeze brushed a loose strand of hair from his face. He didn’t seem to notice. Rowan continued to stare ahead, his mismatched eyes never wavering as his mind went elsewhere.

_ Lydia had died. _ It hadn’t been a surprise – what with her age – but the news hurt regardless.

_ Where did it go? Where did the time go? _

Trying to stop his rampant thoughts, he tucked his head to his knees and shut his eyes tight. But, Rowan couldn’t escape.  _ He wanted to go to her.  _ To see her off on one last adventure, even though he knew he shouldn’t. There was a chance that someone would recognize him, despite how few remained now.

_ The thought of no one recognizing him frightened him even more. _

It had been years since he risked a visit to Whiterun – his house long since donated to Lydia to be used for whatever purpose she wanted. ‘ _ An orphanage,’ _ he was told, Lydia herself never marrying. The property had been signed back over to him, but Rowan still didn't know what to do with it.

He raised his gaze back to the quiet scenery of strong pines and wildflowers, his chin resting on his drawn-up knees. Lydia would have loved it here. Loved the hushed gurgle of the nearby stream, the melodious calls of song-birds flying overhead… even the butterflies that she would tease him for chasing – ‘ _ to use as ingredients,’ _ he would rightly defend. Rowan imagined her smile, a soft sigh that would grace the pleasant silence as she stretched out across the green grass beside him – their most recent adventure on a temporary hold.

“Here you are…” Mora’s voice fell as it came, the Prince’s steps turning light as he approached Rowan’s hunched figure. “You weren’t at any of your usual places. I had thought something had happened…”  _ Again, _ went unsaid.

“Lydia’s dead.”

There was a long pause before Mora spoke again. “I see.” No emotion, no sympathy, just understanding.

Rowan was glad for it.

A hand touched his shoulder – an uncharacteristic gesture of support from the Prince. Unacknowledged, the hand slipped back into the shadowed recesses of dark robes.

“A letter came… Orgnar thought I’d want to know. Guess he figured a courier could find me even if his sources couldn’t.” His words came out rougher than he intended, his eyes stinging harshly as he said them. He thought he had finished crying. “Gods dammit!” Rowan buried his head again, crushing the tears against his legs. "Fuck!"

No repercussion came over his swearing, but Rowan wasn't sure if he was expecting one…  _ or hoping for one. _ Instead, there came the rustle of robes, Mora shifting to sit beside him.

Rowan's shoulders shook and the first sobs broke the established quiet. His hands burrowed into his hair and his fingernails dug harshly into his scalp. He was angry at himself… at his fate… at the inevitability of it all. "I should have… I  _ could _ have…" His voice was choked behind hot tears, though, with his face pressed into his knees, none fell.

A silent hour turned into two, then three. The time passed unaccounted for. The sun’s last few rays cast a pink and yellow glow about the western horizon as shadows grew longer. The wind had taken a cooler note, drawing on the starting dusk.

A whine drew Rowan’s attention towards Mora, though Rowan was sure the Daedric Prince wouldn't make such a sound. Then came another, accompanied by soft scrabbling. 

Rowan had raised his head, his human eye red and tingling from held-back emotions. A box sat between them, its wooden surface aged and worn. It shook slightly as another whimper made itself known.

He sniffed. “Wha-“

Mora took up the square foot-by-foot box into his hands. “I had thought to rectify my earlier attempts at giving you a birth gift… My timing was poor. Had I known…”

Taking the box from Mora before he could make it disappear, Rowan changed his position to sit cross-legged. He slowly contemplated the container's surprising weight as it whined again. 

_ The least he could do was let the poor thing out.  _ He would decide later whether he'd keep it.  _ Rowan kept the slaughterfish after all _ – despite the numerous bites and the thing’s clear malachite and ebony tank taking up a fourth of the living space of the small cabin he currently occupied.

Rowan smeared unshed tears against his sleeve, then turned his attention back to the rune-covered box.

Mora watched Rowan’s actions apprehensively – like he was seconds away from taking it back; his hands hovering ever so slightly. They fell back to his sides when it became clear Rowan wasn’t going to let Mora withdraw the gift.

_ It couldn't be as bad as the slaughterfish… could it? The box wouldn't let it be much bigger than a rabbit. _ Rowan was tempted to shake it, but the pathetic noises made him guilty for even thinking such a thing. Carefully, he lifted the lid to reveal… something. 

A giant yellow-green eye peered up at him, a curious chirp accompanying the wriggle the small mass gave him.

“Uhhh…”

“Clavicus Vile’s recommendation. He seemed to have approved of my choice… though…” He reached towards the creature to take it back. Its eye shifted hesitantly towards Mora before flicking back to Rowan. “Despite Vile’s familiarity with your mortal creation day celebrations, I should have known better...”

Rowan pushed the Prince gently, the other hand sliding the box and its current occupant further away. “It's fine Mora really. At least this one doesn't have any teeth.”  _ He hoped as much anyway. _

Settling back down, Mora seemed mildly placated by his answer, though it was clear the Prince remained uncertain.

“Does it have a name?” Rowan asked as the gelatinous animal slinked out of the box to explore its immediate vicinity. He smiled.  _ Strangely, it reminded him a lot of Mora, though it was probably better to not mention anything. _

“No. Despite our time together it has never taken one. I suppose you will have to do the honors.”

The squid-like thing finished its short expedition and had begun crawling over Rowan's leg. Several tentacles waved about before it made some semblance of a nest in his lap. “You do it no favors…” chuckled Rowan.

_ He was utter crap at naming things. _

It made a contented coo, nuzzling in tight. Rowan’s hand moved over what he figured to be its head, careful of its large singular eye. It wasn't slimy as he expected, but more like smooth pebbles – despite no discernable scales covering its...  _ warm _ body.

Mora seemed to notice his brief puzzlement. “I made some minor adjustments before I came… It should be more accustomed to this atrocious cold you seem determined to stay in.”

“It's only cold if you’re not used to it. Heck, I'm sweating right now.” He pulled off his shirt as if to make a point, but mostly it was to rile the Daedric Prince who thought the current temperature was mild at best.

The creature –  _ Squid _ he decided, squirked at the jostling movement – upset that its nap had been so rudely disturbed.

The Prince's face scrunched with discomfort and feigned disgust. “You and your exothermic ways…”

Genuine mirth finally touched Rowan's eyes as he scooped up Squid in his hands. He watched with fascination as its dark coloring shifted to white stripes, then to a full green pastel color, and to black as he returned it to his lap. “But I thought that was one of my  _ many _ great features.”

“Yes. A portable heater. How convenient for me.”

Leaning up against Mora, his expression turned more serious. “Thanks.”

“You are… welcome.”

“I mean it. Thank-you… For staying.” He sighed and absentmindedly started petting Squid again. “I guess I should have seen it coming, but… it just didn't feel real… you know? I wasn't aging- I'm  _ not _ aging.” His face twisted. “Time just... stands still…”

“It does,” the Prince agreed solemnly.

“Does…” Pausing, Rowan shook his head. “Nevermind… It’s not important.”

“Very well,” Mora acknowledged. “I am here if you need me.”

With his head resting on the other’s shoulder, Rowan simply smiled.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know about you guys, but when it got to like -5, -8 (Celsius) I had this habit of running around in the snow with only a t-shirt, snowpants, and gloves to fend off the chill. Apparently, it made everyone watching me immensely cold even if I didn’t feel anything personally. Rowan got a bit of that polar bear blood (50% frost resistance for the win) and uses it to bug Mora on occasion…


	9. How to Train Your Squid [General]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan still has some leftover things he has to deal with, and it doesn’t help that his new housemate isn’t exactly the most agreeable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Fluff… that’s it… just smooshy fluff… well and Squid. Smooshy smooshy Squid.
> 
> Pt. 3 of the Daedra of Inspiration trilogy (or the Skitamine trilogy, take your pick) Squid is her magical creature of adorableness.
> 
> Shout-out to Adiboudi for getting me past the writer's block I got on this.

He could tell it was early.  _ Extremely early.  _ So, when something squishy started prodding his face, he did what any sane person would do: ignore it and go back to sleep. That worked for all of a minute before the insult returned – this time slapping a wet appendage across his nose.

Rowan spluttered, “I'm up. I'm UP!” His words held a trace of panic until he came to terms with the waking world. Then, he groaned and flopped back into the furs. “Squid!”

A dark shape darted over the edge of his bed, disappearing with a series of small chirped chuckles. The culprit had left a trail between the edge of the bed and the fish tank in the corner, explaining away the water that had been used in his assault. 

“It's too early for this…” griped Rowan, wanting to just burrow back under the covers. 

A large yellow-green eye popped up from the foot of the bed, preparing to escalate measures if Rowan didn’t get up. 

"Seriously… I know you know how to feed yourself. I've seen you do it."

Excitedly bouncing up and down, the tentacled blob gave him a gibbered response.

"Slaughter gets fed the same time every day. She doesn't  _ need  _ a morning snack…" Rowan mumbled, shifting so he was on his stomach – face in the downy pillows.

Squid wiggled grumpily and gave a disgruntled whistle. 

Rowan ignored it, in favor of trying to get in a few more hours of rest before the sun rose too high and completely obliterated any chance he had at getting more sleep.

Silence reigned for a half-second before a heavy weight bounced off his head with a loud thwack. Several smaller items followed in short succession – each hitting with increasing accuracy.

Moving upright, Rowan levied a hard glare at the creature snickering from the rafter. “I swear…” It was obvious sleep was no longer on the table, and he reluctantly pulled away from the lessening comforts of his bed.

Its work done for the morning, Squid gave a happy trill.

“Yeah, yeah…” He tugged on a fresh tunic and tied up his hair without thinking about it. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”

Rowan nearly toppled over getting his boots on when all six tentacles chose that exact moment to drop onto his head. 

Jubilant chitters celebrated his near heart-attack, and he felt justified in entertaining the notion of reaching around and tossing the exuberant mass. There was no need for it to ride him like some petulant child – it could crawl, or better yet, float well enough on its own. Yet, Squid remained partial to clambering about his wide shoulders.

Grabbing a fishing pole and a bucket by the door, he made his way into the world beyond the cabin walls.

It had rained overnight, and heavy dew clung in fat drops to the grass as he trudged his way to the nearby brook.

Along his shoulders, Squid gave a slight shiver and grumble at the sudden temperature drop. 

He laughed and gave the creature a scratch, just barely avoiding poking its large central eye. "You're the one who wanted to get up so early… If you had waited, it would have been warmer." 

_ Not to mention drier,  _ he lamented. His pants had been soaked by the time he had waded through the tall grass to reach the water's edge.

Dragonflies flitted across the water's glimmering surface, and the weight on his shoulders shifted as Squid reached for them. Feeble protests went ignored as he pulled further away from the insects to single-handedly flick dew drops from a stool.

Rowan sat down, setting the bucket beside him and taking up the fishing line to bait its hook.

A few seconds later, he sent the hook, and speared worm, into the water with a lazy flick of his wrist. It broke the surface with a tiny plip, momentarily drawing Squid's attention away from the blue butterfly it was trying to catch.

The mass of tendrils gave a sad squirk as the butterfly escaped, flying too far from where Rowan sat.

_ If Squid really wanted the fluttering thing, it'd have to actually leave his shoulder. _

Eventually, the temptation proved too much to the creature, and he felt its weight lift with a bounce. Squid missed its first strike but refused to be dissuaded. Soon, it was darting between the trees to try and catch the errant butterfly.

Rowan went back to his fishing, keeping the floating creature in his peripheral in case he'd need to intervene. Not to help Squid, but to make sure it didn't cause much unintentional harm to the wildlife. Tormenting the insect population was fine, but the last thing he wanted was to have a panicked herd of deer trampling him…  _ again. _

Feeling a tug on the pole, Rowan pulled it up quickly, only to find he had hooked a reed resting along the bank's bottom. Disappointed, he flicked the empty line back to water.

Sure he would have more success simply abandoning the fishing pole completely and just diving in after the river betties and seasonal salmon, but that would be beside the point. He was doing it the hard way to relax, to give himself time to think –  _ he still had to decide what to do with Breezehome now that it was back in his possession. _

Lydia had turned it into a small orphanage for the children west of the Throat of the World, but if he didn't do anything about the transfer of property, it'd have to give up its status, and the children would be sent elsewhere. To Riften, most likely, and he hadn't heard anything good about Constance Michel’s substitute. Rumours had that the ironically named, Grelod the Kind, had been reincarnated purely to cause misery to a new generation.

He sighed heavily. The alternative meant he would have to visit Whiterun personally and discuss the matter with whoever was the current steward at Dragonsreach. The last one had been easy enough to understand: be polite and concise, and he'd return the same. Otherwise, you might as well be talking to an obstinate mudcrab. Rowan had no clue what Proventus Avenicci’s replacement was like, and he was already dreading finding out.

There came another slight pull on his line, and he reeled it in slowly – perhaps with a little more hope than his skill should allow. What he got was a small silverside perch, no bigger than his index finger. Shoulders sagging as he unhooked it, Rowan tossed it back to the water.

It never made it.

A black shape snatched it from the air, and quickly devoured the tiny fish in a series of muted snaps. Squid waited for another half second, hoping Rowan would toss another. 

When that didn't happen, it plunged into the water itself to chase after the startled fish. There was no hope Rowan would catch anything now – not with the frenzied chaos happening beneath the brook's surface.

Obviously done with the fishing rod for now, Rowan set it aside and leaned back to watch Squid zip through the water with natural ease. He couldn't help the smile that crept to his face – though it lasted about as long as Squid's patience.

Soon enough small sparks arced through the water; followed by a surge of blue light that temporarily lit up the dim glow of morning. More than a few fish floated to the surface, and Rowan prayed that most were only stunned – he'd hate for his favorite fishing spot to suddenly be out of commission. Squid emerged shortly after, somehow managing to carry two large fish and a significantly smaller one tucked amongst its tentacles. The creature dropped all three into Rowan's bucket with a pleased whistle.

“Rub it in, why don't you,” Rowan grumbled. Squid gave him a pat – which he would swear was condescending – as the small roundish thing clambered back up to his shoulders, dripping river water all over his tunic.

With breakfast secured, there was no reason to remain. 

He fetched his fishing pole and hefted the bucket into the other arm. A few sudden splashes sounded from the water, and he watched as the once floating fish quickly disappeared back into the depths. It looked like he could continue fishing here in the future. Rowan let out a relieved sigh.

The creature nuzzled his head and made a slightly confused noise.

“You knew they were fine then?”

Squid offered a happy chirp.

“Hmph. I'd still say it’s cheating.”

That earned him an indignant squawk, and a swat on the back of his head.

“Oh, so shocking everything within a few feet is fair game?"

The large eye rolled in its socket before Squid mimicked him trying to cast ‘sparks’ – try being a generous descriptor.

“Har har. We both know how well that would turn out.”

Rowan definitely caught the slight snicker that followed.

He bumped the cabin's door open with his shoulder and leaned the fishing pole up against the wall. Carrying the bucket to the far fire pit, Rowan set about getting a fire started.

Once the flames could hold their own, he started gutting the fish. “How do you want yours cooked?”

Squid handed him a skewer.

“Grilled, huh? Think I'll join you on that.”

He skewered the first, but his hand was smacked away from the second large salmon.

“Hey!”

Chittering loudly, the creature retrieved the smallest fish from the bucket and handed it to him.

“Oh, this one is mine is it?”

Rowan's response was a happy trill, as he looked over the pathetic morsel.

“Then who gets the other one?”

A tentacle pointed in the direction of the slaughterfish’s tank, the operation of the water wheel powered pump adding a soft gurgle to the short silence.

“It's Slaughter’s? You do realize she won't be able to eat all of that? At best, it will take her a day before she gets through even half of a fish that large.”

There were several short chirps.

“That's the point?”

An affirming rumble.

He sighed. "So, you're thinking I should head to Whiterun?"

Squid wiggled excitedly.

"You do realize I'm going to have to leave you behind?"

The creature offered a sad whine, but Rowan refused to be swayed.

In quick strokes, he had gutted the small fish and crudely descaled it with his hunting knife, before setting it roasting beside the other. Rowan wiped the dirty blade against his pant leg and tucked it back into its sheath along his belt. "Don't you go whining. You know very well why I can't bring you with me."

Squid gibbered an excuse, but Rowan simply rolled his eyes and flipped both fish over to cook their opposite sides.

"I'm not the one you have to convince. The guards at Markarth still won't let me into the city because of you…"

The squishy creature deflated in a huff.

Delicious smells drew his attention back to the fire, and Rowan pulled the cooked fish away. With the back of his hand, he nudged the dejected ball. "Don't be like that. I'll be back before you know it."

Squid unfolded and took the larger cooked fish from Rowan's fingers. It ate in slow bites.

Rowan took his own fish and finished it in one go – head and tail included. The flavor was intense, and he had to shake his head to keep it down. He would make a point to find something better on the road.

Grabbing the last fish, he dropped it into Slaughter's tank careful to not let his fingers near the slaughterfish's snapping jaws. She took a few bites out of the raw salmon, but most of it sank to the bottom as he had guessed it would. Slaughter would eat more when it interested her – likely when she was more active at dusk, and when Rowan was already gone.

Knowing he would be traveling most of the distance on foot, he packed light: a spare tunic and slacks, a bedroll, a half-full waterskin, and enough coin to buy a few things along the way.

Squid watched him carefully as if approving his choices, and when his fingers brushed over Mora's Black Book and ultimately bypassed it, Squid made a concerned noise.

“I'm not going to be gone that long… besides Mora doesn't need to know where I go all the time.”

This time, Rowan got a snide whistle.

His ears turned red at the accusation. “That was one time… And, it hardly counts as a kidnapping,” he defended, cinching up the drawstring on his bag. Finally packed, he grabbed a spare eyepatch and tied it over his left eye – he might live in the middle of nowhere now, but he knew better than to let someone catch a glimpse of his eye's inhumane qualities once he was on the road.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the door, Squid trailing slowly behind.

"Stay!" Rowan commanded of the creature – not that it had ever really listened to him before.

But, surprisingly, it did just that.

He raised a skeptic brow as his hand hovered over the door latch, but Squid made no further movement. “Al…right. I’ll be back soon.”

He received a final wave as the door closed behind him, but it did little to set his mind at ease as he headed off in the direction of the nearest road.

****

A steady rumble interrupted the calls of birds and the slight hum of insects. Rowan turned to spy a wagon coming from around the bend. He pulled to the side and waved the elderly driver down.

Its wooden wheels kicking up loose dirt and gravel, the wagon slowed to stop beside him. “Need a lift, stranger?”

“You have good timing, was thinking I’d have to walk all the way to Whiterun.”

“Whiterun, huh?” The grizzled man scratched his chin through the thick stubble decorating it. “I’m heading for Falkreath myself. Climb aboard. I can at least get you part of the way there.” The old man scooted over a bit and gave the emptied seat beside him a friendly pat.

Rowan didn't hesitate climbing up beside the driver and sitting down with a heavy thump. He was glad for the chance to rest his feet, and the company wouldn't hurt any.

****

“Well, that's as close as I'm getting. You should be able to get there if you continue heading east. Wish I could have been of more use to you.”

“This is plenty enough,” Rowan assured the man, reaching into his pack to offer a few coins. “Are you sure I can't pay you for the ride?”

“Naw, you helped plenty. Would've been still stuck in that mud if it weren’t for you. And besides, it was nice to have the company, even if for a little while.”

Rowan returned the coin pouch to his bag. “Well, safe travels to you friend.”

“And safe travels to you,” the grizzled driver returned before nudging his horse forward with his reins.

The wagon lurched forward again and soon was out of sight.

He turned back to the road and took the driver’s advice heading east. Rowan could partially recognize some of his old landmarks and knew he could make it to Whiterun before nightfall.

****

The sun was just beginning to set as he trekked past the stables, the stable master giving him a brief confused look of recognition before giving a shake of his head and leaning back on his chair.

Rowan didn’t blame him. The last time he had been by was when the current stable master had been a boy.

He continued to eventually reach the gates of the city itself. The guards had been replaced in the time he was absent, but he gained easy passage once he showed the missive he had been sent earlier that month.

Whiterun itself hadn’t changed much, though it seemed livelier than it had when the civil war had been raging at full force – now it remained a bare simmer, something that no one wanted to stir up again. The war had ended with a semblance of truce, neither side able to get a true advantage over the other. It was shaky at best, but somehow it seemed to fit the difficult lifestyle of Skyrim’s hardy residents.

He hung in the shadows of the wall, just long enough for the streets to clear slightly from everyone starting to head home. When it became clear, he traveled the short distance to Breezehome and knocked.

"Coming… coming," answered an oddly familiar, but tired, voice from within. The sound of a deadbolt sliding open followed shortly after, and the door swung open.

A brunet appeared on the other side, her brown eyes widening in shock. "Rowan? I knew you were coming, but… You look like you haven't changed a day." Her gaze caught his eyepatch as it traveled over him. "Well, except the eye. I guess that's just part of adventuring…"

The woman had been from his past, a young thing at the time, but from his past regardless. It took a few more seconds before he could place her. "Sofie?" Just recognizing the once orphan from Winterhold was a strange experience.

Sofie recovered from her shock first. “Oh sorry, where are my manners… Come in. Come in, though, I’ll have to ask you to be quiet, I just put the children to sleep.” Backing up further, she pulled the door wider and allowed him entrance.

He nodded and then stepped inside.

She shut the door behind him, the deadbolt slamming back into place with a soft chunk.

Though the outside remained as he remembered it, the inside had been refurbished in his absence.

The fire pit had been relocated to the back and a chimney retrofitted into the old wall – which he hadn’t noticed from the outside. Cabinets and pantries replaced his weapon racks and his alchemy room had been gutted and repurposed into a playroom of sorts – dolls, wooden blocks, and toy swords lay scattered across the floor.

Sophie’s voice dragged him from his thoughts. “I can imagine a few things have changed in your absence,” her words were quiet, likely to not rouse the others he could hear snoring lightly from upstairs.

Rowan ran a hand across the large table, recognizing many, but not all, of the grooves and gashes the years had worn into it. “A few,” he replied, similarly softly. “The feel is still the same though…”

She smiled a little at that, her expression looking much more ancient than her youthful features should have allowed. “It is.”

He didn’t know what to say next, the following silence easily becoming awkward as he leaned up against the wall.

Eventually, words start forming on his tongue. “Are you…?” Rowan tried, realizing it hadn’t been the best way to start. “I mean…” He sighed, smoothing a hand over his tied-back hair. “I still need to appoint someone to watch over this place… I can’t and won’t do it personally… and-”

“I’ll do it,” Sofie answered quickly, not needing to wait for him to finish. “It’s the least I can do to repay you and Lydia.”

“That would make things easier for me, but you don’t have to do so out of obligation. It wasn’t my intention when I asked.”

“Nor would such a thing be a burden. If you forgive my say-so, Breezehome has been my home as it has been yours. The children only add to its homeliness, and I’d be honored to help it remain so.”

“Well if you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

“Sofie...?” There was a small, sleepy voice as light footsteps padded down the narrow stairway. In the small thing’s hand was a droopy, stuffed wolf, which she clutched tightly upon spotting Rowan leaned against the wall.

The woman turned her head, a slightly apologetic look on her face. “Oh, sorry Sweetie. Were we being too loud?”

There came a hesitant nod as the little girl was likely still wary about the stranger.

“It’s okay. This is an old friend of mine. He’s the one making sure we have enough money for food and toys.”

She hugged the wolf tighter but found the courage to clamber down the rest of the stairs and clutch Sofie’s skirt.

A reassuring hand smoothed over the girl's shoulder. “Lela… meet Rowan. Rowan, Lela.”

Not sure what else to do, Rowan offered a short wave. “Nice to meet you, Lela.”

Lela cowered slightly behind Sofie, but her offered voice was more open. “Are you a Daedra?”

Rowan had to admit, the question surprised him in how direct it was, but he supposed it would be inevitable that he was asked.

Opening his mouth to answer, he was cut off before he even uttered a word.

“Lela, how could you say that?”

The young girl shrunk back, but her blue eyes never wavered from Rowan’s face. "You said he was an old friend… but he’s not that old. And why does he hide his eye?"

"He's not hiding it, he just… doesn't want to spook you with it missing," Sofie tried, moving to kneel in front of Lela. She brushed a curly, blond lock behind a tiny ear.

"No, he still has it," Lela said, pointing accusingly with a stubby finger. "He doesn't stand right for it missing."

"He doesn't… stand right," repeated Sofie slowly.

"Uh huh."

_ Sharp kid,  _ Rowan admitted silently to himself. It was true he hadn't been wearing his eyepatch as often as he should have been – he had gotten too used to seeing without it again.

Unaware of the truth, Sofie turned apologetically. She didn’t know what to say, nor were there any words that she could share to convince the young child otherwise – he knew the type, Lela would keep insisting until she was proven wrong or provided an…  _ alternative. _

With slow purposeful steps, he approached, always mindful to not scare the willful sprite. If he was ousted this early, it would only be a matter of time before rumors spread. He might as well try to make them in his favor.

Coming to crouch in front of Lela beside Sofie, Rowan met her judging gaze. Her small fingers coiled around her stuffed toy as if seeking protection from the scruffy wolf plush.

“You’re a pretty smart girl, aren’t you?”

Her nose crinkled, but he could tell he had managed to gain some interest that wasn’t just straight apprehension.

“I’m no Daedra, but…” His hands moved slowly to the knot on his eyepatch, his fingers fumbling to untie it. “I am the Dragonborn, and having Dragon’s blood tends to do strange things...” He pulled the scrap of leather from his face, his eye still shut to continue the suspense.

Slowly he opened his left eye.

Surprisingly, Sofie was the one to let out a small gasp; Lela was more concentrated on its peculiar yellow-green that flooded even where the white should be. Eventually, she said, “That’s strange.”

“I suppose it is, though it’s why I keep it covered.”

Lela gave a small pout. There was something about her expression that said she wasn’t completely satisfied; that the young girl still had her suspicions, but had no words to argue further… yet.

Rising to her feet, Sofie came to his rescue. “Now, now Lela. You’ve pestered Rowan enough for tonight. Back to bed with you.”

She made a small grumble, and Rowan was pretty sure he saw Lela stick her tongue out when Sofie’s back was turned. But, before he could verify what he saw, the little scamp had already disappeared back upstairs.

“Sorry, Rowan… Your eye, does it-?”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, tying the eyepatch back into place. “A mage… helped me get it under control.” A small lie, but one that shouldn’t cause him much trouble down the line. “Won’t be a problem further, but its best to not let people know about it.”

Sofie nodded, her gaze snapping away once his eye had been completely hidden. “I guess that explains the  _ other  _ thing too.”

“Possibly,” he agreed with a shrug, knowing she was implying something about his apparent immortality. “Well… I can sign the paperwork tomorrow morning, and then you’re free to do whatever you want.” Rowan turned to leave.

“Wait. Have you found a place?”

He stopped and stared quizzically over his shoulder.

“For tonight. The Bannered Mare has their rooms full up… I thought maybe you could sleep here.”

“Oh...? If it isn’t too much trouble then.”

“Not at all.”

****

Ultimately, Rowan had taken the floor, not wanting to displace Sofie for the night, so he wasn’t surprised waking with a stiff neck and sore back. What did surprise him, were the several bright-eyed youngsters who had used him as a pillow – rousing sleepily when he had, sometime late morning.

He lay puzzled for a while, contemplating his new existence as a floor cushion, before Sofie shooed the last stubborn sleepers away.

“Sorry about that, Rowan.” She grinned, clearly enjoying his confusion. “The young ones tend to want to cuddle with me at night. I guess since you were on the floor, you were the easier target.”

“S’no problem… jus’ wasn’t prepared for it,” he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

She helped him to his feet.

“I suppose it’s late enough I should be able to talk to the current steward.”

“Actually… I was hoping you could watch the children for a bit first. I’ve been meaning to do some shopping in the market, but it’s always difficult trying to keep track of everyone at the same time.”

Rowan had to take a few seconds to register what Sofie had just asked of him. “Uhh… I’m not sure… I mean…” he tried, fumbling for words.

“Please? It’ll only be for a few moments, and you don’t have to worry about making breakfast or anything… The older ones have that-”

A loud clatter came from downstairs, followed by an even louder shriek from several sources downstairs. There was a shared look passed between the two adults before Sofie was rushing down the stairs, Rowan following closely behind.

The shrieks had devolved into pure laughter and giggles by the time Rowan made it back to the main level, and the tension in the building immediately fell.

A small circle had formed around an unseen object on the ground, and a small boy was stooping to pick it up. Rowan recognized the dark-green blob instantly.

Somehow, Squid had followed him.

The usually wriggly creature was, for once, deathly still as it hung limply in the boy’s small hands, and Rowan would have been worried had he not seen the large yellow-green eye suddenly squeeze shut.

“What do you have there, Marvin?”

The red-headed boy shuffled forward to drop Squid into Sofie’s waiting hands.

Sofie flipped Squid over, inspecting the dark-green blob with quiet scrutiny. “Where did you get this?” she asked, handing it back.

“Found it,” came her unanimous answer.

She raised her brows at that, and Rowan couldn’t blame her for that. He didn’t know much about handling children, but he did recognize suspicious behavior when he saw it.

“And where did you find it?” Sofie spoke slowly.

One of the older children stepped forward to speak for the group. “We didn’ steal it, Sofie. It fell out of Ser’s back when we moved it.” He pointed to Rowan’s bag that had been shifted away from where he had left it at the entrance.

Suddenly, there were many tiny eyes on him. All expectant of what he would say. “It’s fine. Children can be curious.”

There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief.

Sofie nodded and then turned back to the small group. “What was all the noise about then?”

“We jus’ got excited, seeing that we don’ gots to leave.”

The other children all murmured agreements.

“Is that all?”

“We swears it.”

Again the circle of children nodded, and again Sofie seemed to buy it – at least enough to not question further. “Well, if Rowan takes no issue with you playing with it, then I shouldn’t either. But…” she warned, raising a stern finger. “You ask first next time, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” was the unified mumble.

“Good. Now I want you all to behave for Rowan while I go out to fetch a few things…”

Rowan’s head snapped up at that, as Sofie was making a quick escape to the door. “But I…”

He was too late, and the door was already snapping shut on her heels.

With Sofie gone, the children grew uncertain, the green, blobbish creature more so; its singular eye drifting away to look elsewhere.

Squid may have fooled Sofie into thinking it was some strange toy, but Rowan knew otherwise. 

His hands moved to his hips and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Squid…” he started, his voice sterner than he intended – if he was judging by the joint flinch from his small audience. Making an attempt to soften his tone, Rowan continued, “I told you to stay home. What if someone saw you?”

The squishy, green mass rose, drawing stifled excitement from their audience as it hovered inches from the floor. It gave him a quiet, garbled hiss.

“Yes, and what a good job of playing dead you did-” He felt a small tug on his pant leg.

“Do you understand him?” asked a quiet voice.

Reality snapped him back into place, and if he had been in any other audience, it would have been very bad for him. As it was, the only harsh judgment he seemed to receive was from Lela who had remained a distance away, silently judging him for sharing a similar eye to Squid.

“Somewhat,” Rowan replied carefully.

A brief, excited chitter rose amongst the children.

“Can you do magic too?”

“Can I…?”

“Do magic too?” repeated a different voice. “Like the lightning.”

It was becoming clear what had caused the earlier shrieks. Squid had been up to more than a few things and he bet if he looked around there would be a distinct lack of spiders in the vicinity.

“No. No lightning. But…” A flame lit up in his palm, and with a flick, he extinguished it. “I can do that much at least.”

That seemed to garner some enthusiasm, and even Lela couldn’t help showing some curiosity.

_ Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad… _

Sofie returned to Breezehome to the sight of happy laughing and excited shrieks. The woman adjusted the basket in her arms, enjoying the adorable scene unfolding before her. She hadn’t seen the children this open with a stranger in quite some time and would hate to interrupt the moment.

As much as the big man made it clear he had no experience with children, he still had an inclining of what to do with them. They were playing a game of tag, or something close to it as far as she could tell. Surprisingly, it was Lela riding up on Rowan’s shoulders as he ran around; the usually pragmatic girl hugging his head tight as her wolf peered out from a sack on her back.

He saw her and stopped. A light blush was creeping up on his cheeks as he began setting Lela down to a small chorus of disappointed noises from the others.

It didn’t take long before he had grabbed his bag that had been sitting on the sidelines and jogged up to meet her. She would swear she saw a green shape dart deeper into the bag slung over his shoulder as he approached, but it must have been her imagination.

“All done?”

Sofie nodded. “I still have to get lunch ready if you want to keep playing…”

“Uh… no,” Rowan said slowly, almost embarrassed. “I still have to get that paperwork set up for you.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stop by after.”

As if in thought, he paused, shifting how his pack sat over his shoulder. “Actually, I… I think I might.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I talk to my pets. I think they talk back, but in reality, I’m probably a crazy person.


	10. The Squirrel Queen [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Echoes of left behind feelings cause problems for the future. Can two rivals set aside their differences and come together to save their shared love interest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Hermaeus Mora/Rowan, and Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin (Rowan) >> Jyggalag/Hermaeus Mora/Dovahkiin (still Rowan), Threesome, gender swapping, gender transformation, Sheogorath, Dyus
> 
> Again... potential spoilers to 'Forgetting' as it happens after. Skitamine continues to be my inspiration.

Rowan was there when it happened, and he still isn’t sure how things eventually led to this: Jyggalag pressed opposite and Mora sandwiched, naked and fevered, between them.

Mora continued panting hard as a fat tendril relentlessly fucked into Rowan’s backside – sharing a vigor to another doing the same to his nemesis and love rival. Another forceful thrust from Jyggalag drove Mora forward, Rowan's swollen cock pressing tighter against his belly with the shove. Mora’s lips drew to a thin line as his sharp fangs bit into his flushed lower lip; his many yellow-green eyes screwed shut from the sheer bliss that radiated from the three joined bodies. Claws from four sets of hands dug into Rowan’s sides, and he was pretty sure the ones drawing blood were doing so intentionally – only the shared body between him and the monochrome Daedra stopped things from escalating into further violence.

He thought momentarily of extracting himself, but as if sensing his thoughts, a slender, pale-green hand wrapped around the back of his head to tug him in tight. Lips met, and a tongue slipped past his teeth to wrestle with his own.

Escape wouldn’t be an option when Mora was being this needy.

Faced with no other choice; he returned the embrace, his fingers wrapping tightly around Mora’s slim frame to pull him tighter still.

****

“Boy?!” a regretfully familiar voice lashed out through his home. “You better be here.”

Not wanting to deal with the monochrome intruder unarmed, Rowan made sure to grab his dragonbone sword from the weapon rack on the wall. “What do you want, Jyggalag?” He peered down into the main hall, spying the unwelcome Daedra.

Squid seemed equally apprehensive, but something held back its usually caustic nature against Jyggalag. It uttered a low hiss regardless.

Jyggalag didn’t respond immediately. Instead, the monochrome Daedra just stood there, fists clenched, and mouth stuck in a deep snarl. “I…” Jyggalag started, looking very much like he’d rather swallow his own tongue. “Ineedyourhelp,” he finished far too quickly for Rowan to catch.

“What?” Rowan had to ask, lowering his sword just slightly as it was becoming evident Jyggalag hadn’t come to fight.

“I… seek your… assistance,” ground out Jyggalag.

The Nord was caught unaware, but he was stunned for only a few seconds. “And why would I help you?”

“Since we both _lamentably_ share the same interest,” snarled the monochrome Daedra, tapping an irritated boot against the hardwood.

Reluctantly, Rowan sheathed his sword. It was becoming quickly evident that the Daedra hadn’t come to fight him. “And, what interest is that?”

“Hermaeus Mora.”

****

“Why would Sheogorath have an ‘interest’ in Mora? You aren’t the same person anymore.”

“An oversight. When I cleft the idiot from my soul, some… remnants must have corrupted the curse’s replacement.”

“But why only now?”

“Because he was not strong enough before. As lenient as Hermaeus Mora was about my _punishment,_ allowing that imbecile to claim my remaining powers was in error… Was it here you met with Dervenin?”

It had more than a few years since Rowan last visited Solitude, but the stones the city laid upon had remained unchanged. “Yeah… though, I was supposed to bring it to the Pelagius Wing in the Blue Palace.”

“You knew this much, and yet you let the hip bone of an Emperor gather dust in a chest.”

“I haven’t seen you willingly looking for Sheogorath before this…” Rowan snarked in his defense.

With a goal in mind, there was no more reason to stand out in the cobblestone street. The pair started walking towards the palace, managing to enter it unnoticed. Rowan had to fight the urge to wave his hand in front of someone’s face. No one had even glanced their way.

“An illusion spell. And, I can only maintain it for so long, so I would appreciate you not doing something stupid for once.”

The Nord resisted making a snide comment. “The hip bone is supposed to do what exactly?” he whispered instead.

“It is a trigger,” was all Jyggalag had to offer. “Now. Move before we are stopped.” The Daedra all but shoved him through the door to the Pelagius Wing.

****

Rowan doesn’t handle motion sickness well, so he especially didn’t appreciate the dusty hall shifting to a bizarre meadow. A flamboyantly dressed Daedra sat at a large table resting at its center.

“Ah, guests. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome to my little wonderland away from home. Welcome to the deceptively verdant mind of Emperor Pelagius III. I must say, there’s one more than I thought coming.”

“Sheogorath…” Jyggalag seethed, stepping forward before Rowan could interfere.

“So, you must be the white rabbit. Though… you hardly look the part for guiding Alice.” Sheogorath raised a hand; his fingers poised to snap.

In seconds, Jyggalag had snatched Rowan’s sword from his belt and severed the offending appendages.

The Daedric Prince of Madness wiggled the remaining stumps of his middle finger and thumb, acting completely oblivious to the sparkling purple oozing from the injuries. “Well, isn’t that just rude. I hardly recall inviting such a party pooper to this shindig.”

“Nor would I accept any invitation.” Jyggalag sounded offended at the very thought.

Sheogorath scratched the inside of an ear with his pinky. “Oh, pardon me. Were you saying something? I just heard a bunch of ‘I suck the fun out of everything’.”

“Where have you taken Hermaeus Mora?” The dragonbone sword was raised threateningly.

“Ah, wonderful, wonderful! Why waste all that hatred on yourself when it can so easily be directed at others?”

“You will bring us to Hermaeus Mora, or I will open a new hole in your throat to speak through. Hopefully, that one will be less idiotic.”

Sheogorath waved a bored hand, turning his attention back to the table laden with wine and fine tasting cheeses. “Quit your lip flapping. I hardly see why I should let you heathens near Squirrel Queeny; you’d probably start talking some sense into her.”

“Just, would you. Please?” Rowan tried, stomping on Jyggalag’s foot to quieten the newest retort boiling on the monochrome Daedra’s tongue. They were getting nowhere depending on Jyggalag to negotiate.

“Ah, ha. Manners. That will get you anywhere, Sonny. Maybe not off the chopping block, but at least down the rabbit hole.” He clapped his hands, and a portal of purples and pinks opened beneath Rowan and Jyggalag. There had been no warning, and soon the pair was disappearing within.

****

Rowan couldn’t exactly be proud of his next few moments, limbs flailing as he tumbled end over end. At least his fall was cushioned, though the swamp he had landed in was not the first thing he hoped for.

With a loud gasp, he broke to the surface, hands shaking off some of the murk as he tried to get the stinging bog-water out of his eyes. There was a similar splash beside him and he turned toward the sound. “You better not have lost my sword.”

“If you want it back so badly, I will stick you with it,” Jyggalag grumbled, finding the water’s edge first. He promptly hauled himself out, the grimy water disappearing near instantly from his body, hair, and clothes.

As powerless as Jyggalag claimed to be, he still had some abilities that Rowan was envious of.

Rowan was drenched thoroughly and smelled quite strongly of the stinking bog they had fallen in. “Where are we?” he asked, wringing water from his tunic. There was nothing he could do about the smell though.

The Daedra’s gaze scanned the distance. “Dementia. Fortunately, your pathetic groveling got us into the Shivering Isles.”

“Well, excuse me for it not being to your standard. It worked better than whatever you were trying.”

His sword was returned with an aimed toss, its tip just missing his boot by inches as it sunk into the mossy earth.

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks.” The Nord pulled it out of the ground and wiped the blade somewhat cleaner on his pant leg before returning it to its loop on his belt.

Jyggalag simply charged ahead, passing dead, twisted trees and shallow roots as if he knew them.

“Do you actually know where you are going? I swear that was the same tree we passed earlier.”

“Are you always so annoying?”

“With others? No. Just you and your _charming_ personality.”

“Do you think Hermaeus Mora would notice if I cut out your tongue?”

With the conversation abruptly ended, the pair traveled in uncomfortable silence; neither one exactly thrilled to be in the other's presence. Only their shared goal kept them even remotely close together.

****

The giant tree floating above New Sheoth, as its somewhat inane occupants called the city, seemed a good a place as any to start. How to get there was a little more troubling, especially with the near open hostility they were greeted by.

Haskill seemed to be the sole exception, being somewhat indifferent to Jyggalag’s presence as he showed them the way up, eventually to leave the pair to their own devices.

****

“Mora!” Rowan shoved Jyggalag aside, slamming into the heavy door in his haste. He was surprised when it held his weight. Shaky fingers fumbled for the peephole hatch, and he hesitated only momentarily before opening it.

The room was padded and draped with fine silks – so its captive was at least comfortable – but the thick chain made it clear that its occupant was no guest.

It wasn’t the gaudy gems embedded in the shackle, nor was it the rich metals the chain was made of. Rowan couldn’t place how he knew, but Mora’s restraints were why he hadn’t felt anything through the eye. _Still couldn’t._ It made his blood run cold, and he had to ask. “What is that chain?”

Eyes narrowing, Jyggalag sucked in air tightly between his teeth. “So, the bastard found it…”

“What is that chain!?” Rowan repeated with more force, grabbing what he could of Jyggalag’s dual-toned shirt. It wasn’t enough that Jyggalag acknowledged he knew what it was. The Nord wanted to know why it was able to interfere with the connection between him and Mora.

“Something to contain the other Princes. Believe me, when I say, I never had the intention to use it on Hermaeus Mora.”

“But, you had thought of it.”

Jyggalag gave no response and it was enough of an answer for Rowan.

“You’re despicable.” He turned his attention back the cell door, trying the iron handle. It refused to open.

“It is locked.”

Rowan banged once more on the door as if to defy Jyggalag’s words, but it wouldn’t budge regardless of the strength he put into it. “I can see that,” he replied with more than a little-justified hostility. His eyes scanned the door, but he found no discernable keyhole, nor weakness he could exploit.

“We will need a key, and knowing the _idiot_ …” Jyggalag sighed heavily. “He has already lost it.”

“You would know,” Rowan muttered under his breath, still reluctant to leave the locked door Mora was chained behind. “Do you at least have an inclining of where we could find it?”

“No-”

Rowan threw exasperated hands to the air. “Then, you’re useless.”

Despite his stony expression, Rowan could tell Jyggalag was more than a little annoyed at being interrupted. “I do, however, know who does.”

****

If nothing else, Mania was more colorful than Dementia had been – much to Jyggalag’s annoyance.

Knifepoint Hollow seemed like a blight on the landscape compared to the surrounding vibrant pallet. A large, gnarled tree marked the library’s entrance.

It was dark inside.

“Cheery.”

“Nor had it intended to be,” Jyggalgag replied with steel in his voice, taking lead. “It was, at one point, my Great Library; containing all the knowledge of creation. Now, it is reduced to no more than crumbling ruins.”

“Then why are we here?”

“There still remains one that we must seek council with.”

“Someone actually lives here?”

“‘Lives’ might be too generous considering the luxuries Hermaeus Mora spoils a _pet_ like yourself with, but yes.” They stepped over fallen stone. “Meet Dyus of Mytheria. One of the first few immortals.”

Rowan barely noticed the slumped figure, sitting on a pristinely preserved wooden chair, whose hair and skin had been bleached with time and absence of light. Sunken eyes peered out at them, a sense of lingering recognition playing out on a tired face.

“Master… Jyggalag. What an honor it is to see you again.”

“The key, Dyus.” Jyggalag demanded.

Dyus seemed to take no heed of the monochrome Daedra’s indifference. “Yes, Master. Of all the knights trusted to watch over Hermaeus Mora, only one was entrusted with a spare key. The Squirrel Captain as it were; though a little fancifully named for a mere gliding rodent. Should the creature be indeed your target, I do not see your failure, Master.”

Jyggalag seemed pleased with that answer. “That is all then, Dyus.”

“Yes, Master.” The aged man looked more than a little dejected as Jyggalag turned to leave.

Taking one final look back at the fellow immortal, Rowan jogged after the Daedra. “You’re just going to leave him here?”

“And, should I not? Sheogorath has made it clear Dyus is safe if he remains here.”

“‘Here’ is a shit-hole, and you know it.”

Jyggalag made no further comment, but the Daedra’s tightening fist did not go unnoticed.

****

The task itself was easy enough with Dyus’ guidance, though more than a little demeaning when Jyggalag refused to aid in the endeavor; leaving Rowan to chase tiredly after the pocket-sized sugar glider.

They returned with the key in hand, and it only took a matter of seconds before the door to Mora’s cell slid open. Yet, Rowan couldn’t move. The sight was a little more than he could take.

Wedged between pillars of pink and purple shrooms, lay Mora. Fine jewels adorned green, sweat dappled skin, and two furry ears poked through white hair. Rowan swore the long bushy tail that draped over what little remained of Mora’s dignity twitched.

_Sheogorath was taking ‘Squirrel Queen’ a little too literally._

Jyggalag didn’t share the same reservation he had, and pushed past him, snatching the ring of keys from his stunned fingers.

Mora stirred as Jyggalag came to kneel beside him, his face flush and eyes hazy with heat and lust. “Haa…?” His eyes opened wider as his blown pupils danced between Jyggalag and Rowan – still standing by the door. A smile spread on his lips. “Rowan… Jygg…”

“Yes, yes,” Jyggalag said, tugging off a tendril that had snaked around his arm. “Come on. Let me get this off you…”

The shackle fell away with a muted clatter and Rowan was struck with the strongest spike of pleasure running from his eye to his crotch. He doubled over; bent over his incredibly hard member, his breath stolen from his throat. Jyggalag skirted around him – with Mora in his arms – and Rowan felt a shove as he fell forward into the cell, crushing one of the pink mushrooms. The plume of spores only succeeded in making him harder – if that was even possible.

The door slammed and his head shot up. Jyggalag had shut and locked the cell door behind him.

“Bast-” Rowan suddenly keened as he inhaled another dose of mushroom spores.

 _Mora spent two days like this?_ It wasn’t hard to see how it could drive anyone mad given enough time.

* * *

“Jyyyygggy. You’re forgetting Rooowaaaan.”

“He is fine,” Jyggalag answered, trying to steer Moralove further away. It was no easy feat considering the tendrils coiling around his legs and slipping under his clothes. But, it didn’t matter; a few more steps and he would reach a point weak enough to tear a portal out of this despicable realm.

Suddenly, all his plans went out the window.

“Noooooo,” his Amour-a half-wailed, tendrils yanking Jyggalag’s feet out from under him.

The pair landed with a hard thud, Jyggalag nearly severing his own tongue with his teeth as he smacked his chin.

“You’re leaving him behi- Jygg,” Amour-a started giving him a frantic shake as panic crept into his voice. “What if he gets lost?!? He can’t make a portal out!!!”

“Then good riddance,” he grumbled, untangling his limbs from the tendrils’ hold.

“Jyyyyygg…” pleaded Amour-a, more tendrils coming to replace the ones displaced.

“Alright. I get it,” Jyggalag relented, a few of Moralove’s more active limbs slinking to parts he would rather stay unmolested while in the Shivering Isles. “I will go fetch him.” The tendrils let up, though there was a certain stubbornness that forced him to bring the clingy octopus all the way back.

* * *

Just remembering to take focused breaths was becoming a difficult exercise, as each one only stirred the spores in his lungs. His cock twitched with interest, but pride had him refusing to touch his sensitive member as he continued lying on his side.

Rowan knew he had to escape, but thinking beyond the rosy haze was increasingly difficult.

“Fuck…” he swore aloud, not expecting a response.

But, one did come.

“Naaaauughty Roooowaaaan,” came Mora’s voice from beyond the door. It opened with the barest of creaks and Jyggalag dared step through, seemingly unhampered by the heavy dusting of mushroom spores in the air.

“How in Oblivion… are you not affected?”

“Discipline,” Jyggalag replied curtly, hefting Rowan over a shoulder and dragging him from the cell.

Mora greeted their return with a dazed smile and more than a few tendrils circling them both. “My heroes,” he swooned and Rowan cringed as another pang of arousal assaulted his neglected length.

“How much longer is he going to be like this?” Rowan had to ask.

Jyggalag dropped him, seeing as he could still support his own weight. “Not long if we can get him out of here.”

“We?” Rowan raised a brow as he shakily stood – his arousal making it hard to stand straight.

“Silence or I will actually leave you behind this time.”

“You only came back because Mora begged you.”

Feeling a little ignored by their conversation, Mora interrupted the newest bout of bickering. “Rowan, I managed to sneak something for you. Jyggy doesn’t like these, but I thought you might…” A wafer the size of septim was drawn forward – smelling faintly of strawberries with a stamped ‘eat me’ on its top.

Rowan recognized the treat from earlier in Sheogorath’s realm, but he hoped he had been wrong. “Where did you get this, Mora?”

“Se…cor..et…” Mora grinned playfully, stretching out the word and adding an extra syllable that shouldn’t have existed. A tendril passed Mora the wafer and the Daedric Prince immediately started pressing it against Rowan’s stubbornly closed lips. As much as he loved Mora, he had his fill of Sheogorath’s craziness for a while.

There was no such hope of mercy from Jyggalag.

“What is wrong? Moralove is offering you something…” Black claws pinched Rowan’s nose, blocking off his means of air. “You should not be so rude.”

Rowan could only hold his breath for so long, and when he opened his mouth to breathe, Mora promptly stuffed the biscuit between his teeth.

“There we go,” hummed Mora, coaxing the treat down Rowan’s throat.

Despite its delightful taste, it settled hotly in his belly.

“Well…?”Mora looked more than a little expectant.

More than a little self-conscious, Rowan glanced away. He uttered a mumbled “It’s goo-” before having to stop. A familiar feeling spread from his stomach to the rest of his body: one that had his skin straining over bones too big as he shrunk. It didn’t surprise him that he suddenly had breasts, and if he checked, there wouldn’t be anything between his legs… _again._ He was a she, and _she_ half expected Jyggalag to tease her for it.

Surprisingly, Jyggalag did no such thing. If anything, it looked like the Daedra’s clockwork brain had actually stopped.

“What?” Rowan asked skeptically and somewhat embarrassed, shrugging her now extremely loose fitting tunic back over her shoulders. She slid her belt off temporarily to cut a few more holes in it, giving up on trying to keep her trousers up otherwise. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about her boots.

She decided to carry them.

The monochrome Daedra still didn’t say anything even as Mora draped heavily over the significantly smaller Nord. “Roro… I missed you.” Mora nuzzled into Rowan’s cheek as they started walking.

“I’ve been here the whole time, Mora.” The lingering scent of those mushrooms only seemed to be getting worse as they traveled further through the tunnels, and it was making Rowan unbearably hot. It didn’t help that a few tendrils had slinked underneath her clothes and were stroking over her tender flesh.

“Not like this though…” There was a teasing tone to Mora’s voice as he cupped a breast, pinching a sensitive nipple. Rowan couldn’t help the small mewl that escaped.

Through hazy vision, Rowan cast a desperate look at Jyggalag – for once hoping he would interfere as Rowan was slowly entwined, loose-fitting clothes lifted from her body.

The Daedra seemed to have grown roots.

Mora’s own eyes trailed Rowan’s gaze, landing on Jyggalag at the other end. “Is Roro embarrassed? Don’t worry, we can be embarrassing together.”

Rowan felt a small tug of sharp teeth on her earlobe before Mora’s own form shifted. Generous womanly features hugged tightly against Rowan’s body, and Mora’s outfit had become even more provocative, though still finished with the squirrel ears and tail. Her golden-green eyes flitted back to Jyggalag and a few tendrils tugged on his arms to join them. “Come Jyggy. Don’t leave us cold and wanting…”

Any complaint Rowan could have made… _would_ have made, disappeared as a tendril prodded her slicked entrance; her legs sent into a quiver as it wriggled deeper. She moaned unabashedly, all restraint flushed from her thoughts.

* * *

Jyggalag wasn’t prepared for the nuisance’s transformation, and it stopped his usually methodical thinking in its tracks.

The Nord always had a similar scent to Mora – no thanks to the Daedric eye Mora foolish spared – but without the annoyance’s usual musky male stench, it was that much stronger.

_Not to mention the sweeter undertones of her… arousal._

The Daedric Prince was almost disgusted with his thoughts, then his Amour-a had to show him something else. _Something entirely new._

In all their time together, it was rare for Moralove to be in lesser form, and not once had Jyggalag been graced with the feminine version of the shape his cuddlefish decided to wear.

It had always been a fight, a show of dominance between them, regardless of who finally won the top position, and yet here and now, Moralove was willing to be bottom with the nuisance.

Jyggalag had to swallow hard as his body moved for him, drawn forward by the twin scents of desire circling his nose. The enticing moan was more a siren call, instigated by his Amour-a to break his will. Moralove always did play dirty to get what she wanted, and unfortunately, she was very good at it.

* * *

From the cradle of tendrils, Rowan had been spun into, a few slid between her thighs to spread her wider, to plunder her spoils and turn her an even brighter vermillion. “M-Mora,” she whined on shaky lips, still trying to push her legs back together as Jyggalag stepped closer. She felt more than a little exposed, but Rowan supposed that had been Mora’s intention from the start as the tendrils stroked into her with solid thrusts.

Rowan could no longer expect Jyggalag to stop this madness. As much as he claimed that his discipline would be able to resist temptation, the way the monochrome Daedra staggered forward made it clear something was affecting him.

With one final step, the distance between the three of them had finally closed, and Mora moved in for the kill; her tendrils dragging Jyggalag in tight.

The Daedra stumbled, knocking into both Mora and Rowan and sending the group to the floor. Limbs tangled, but no one had the desire to part.

Mora took the lead, taking up Jyggalag’s head in her hands and planting a kiss to his lips. She shortly turned to do the same to Rowan.

Jyggalag ran fingers through Mora’s hair, trying to tug her back, but Mora had other ideas.

In a smooth wave of writhing tendrils, Rowan was pulled between them, to be spread and displayed tantalizingly despite Rowan’s own weakening protests.

“Don’t leave Roro out. She makes the cutest expressions when played with.” To further Mora’s point, she gave a dainty nibble to Rowan’s throat.

A brief flicker of interest broke through the Daedra’s poker face, and there were no complaints as Jyggalag bent down to capture Rowan’s plush lips.

****

With the effects of the treat faded – and Rowan’s male parts returned – Jyggalag’s odd attraction vanished.

They separated, neither wanting to bring up what had just happened. But, no real distance was made before more tendrils came to trap them and drag them back.

_Mora was still needy after all._


	11. The Makings of an Immortal [Teen]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You just cannot stop dying, can you?” A pre-immortal Dyus and his pre-cursed Master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Dyus, Jyggalag
> 
> Thanks to Skit for help on the Sheo scene and Dyus' heart concept ^^

Dyus started with a gasp, his clothes still clinging tightly to his small frame. He was feeling cold and wet, which was more than he thought he would a few moments ago - not to mention he was still breathing.

“You are up. Good. I was beginning to think I used too much force restarting your heart.”

“My hear-?” He stopped, his attention snapping to his savior… and Lord. Dyus scrambled to his knees, the motion causing a coughing fit. “My Lord,” he said when finished, wiping the salty water from his lips. “I must apologize for my appearance, Master Jyggalag.”

“As you should. Had I been any later, I would have brought back a brain-dead vegetable.”

“My Lord?”

“A vegetable could hardly be my Chamberlain,” his Lord answered simply.

“Of-of co-course,” stuttered Dyus, the cold overcoming his initial shock.

“Good. Get yourself dried off.”

Master Jyggalag draped a thick cloth over him, and by the time Dyus had pulled it off his head, his Lord had disappeared.

He vowed to master the Alteration spell ‘water breathing’.

****

It was inevitable that he gained one or two enemies - especially considering who his employer was. So, Dyus wasn’t surprised when there was a few who actively wanted him dead. He was however surprised that they would attempt to kill him in his Master’s library.

“Get him!”

 _What?_ _The audacity!_

Dyus struggled against his captures, but he was a small man, with barely an ounce of fat or muscle on him. He kicked out, trying to get himself free - with no luck.

“Grab his legs!” shouted another.

Desperate to escape, he wriggled harder.

“Feisty for a bookworm, isn’t he?”

“Nothing personal, Dyus… well, a lot personal actually. No one steals my position without having to answer for it.”

_So revenge, was it?_

“Pathetic.” Dyus’ outburst earned him a punch in the stomach.

“Pathetic, Dyus!?” The crazed acolyte struck him on the cheek, hard enough to rattle his teeth. There was a sudden taste of blood in his mouth and Dyus suspected he had bitten his tongue. “Hold him. I want to make sure he understands a few things first.”

His legs were dropped as his arms were held spread instead - one hired thug to each appendage.

The acolyte raised his fist and punched Dyus again in the stomach. This time, a lot harder.

Glad he had chosen to have only a small breakfast that day, Dyus immediately spat up. The meager contents of his stomach splashing the stone.

“How unbecoming, Dyus.”

Even if he could think up of a witty response, Dyus’ body was too busy trying to curl in on itself. With the next harsh blow to his torso, he forgot how to breathe, the air literally punched from his lungs. His heart stuttered, a brief panic-inducing flicker, but it continued beating.

_For now…_

Wheezing heavily, Dyus was unable to brace himself for the next strike. It struck him across the jaw, causing him to bite his tongue again. He choked on the sickening taste that freshly flooded his mouth.

“Dyus. Dyus. Dyus,” his tormentor admonished. “You really are unfit to serve…” At some signal, unseen through bruised eyes, a large trunk was brought forward. “But, it seems I might have to fill in for your unfortunate absence.”

On resisting legs, he was dragged towards it, only then realizing what it was for when he spied its empty contents.

_No! No!_

With ease, he was lifted. He tried to struggle, but he was too worn out to do more than kick uselessly at empty air as he was tossed inside. The heavy lid was swiftly slammed, and he heard the turning of a lock.

Dyus had been trapped in darkness.

“Goodbye, Dyus. Hopefully, someone will let you out… That is, if they can find you.”

Dyus pounded weakly on the lid with his hands.

_Too dark! Too dark!_

As if trying to escape the confines of his chest, Dyus could feel his heart beating faster and faster. It hurt, and he could feel new, hot tears tainting the edges of his eyes with the agony.

_He had to get out! Needed to get out! It was too dark!_

He continued clawing at the trunk’s lid, even as his airways closed involuntarily. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn-

****

Dyus couldn’t remember fainting, nor could he recall the trunk being opened again.

“I am almost positive you could have gotten that lock open on your own… And yet…”

His recent bout of amnesia was put on hold, as his master stole all his attention.

He flailed as he attempted to make himself look more presentable, coming to kneel awkwardly inside the bottom of the trunk. Dyus noticed the taste of blood on his lips, and hastily wiped at his mouth with a handkerchief pulled from his robe’s inner lining. “My apologies. I… I should have been more…” _More what…? Could he admit his phobia of the dark…_ “My apologies. It won’t happen again.”

Lord Jyggalag only rose from his crouch carefully. “I should believe so.”

Dyus felt his face heat with shame. It had been his own personal weakness that had caused such an issue - not to mention how far behind on his chores he would be. He kept his bowed long after the footsteps of his lord had receded into the distance.

‘Candlelight’ would be the next spell he would try and learn. Would have to learn, if he didn’t want to keep imposing on his lord.

****

Continually regretting ever setting foot out of his master’s grand library, he clung tightly to the rock face.

Dyus had been told that a uniquely rare plant had been discovered along these cliffs, but looking back on things, that had been an evidential lie. He cursed himself for his gullibility and would learn better for next time.

_If he survives to ‘next time’._

Using his limited strength, Dyus tried to pull himself up, but he was too heavy. Shuffling all those heavy tomes, and he would have thought he would have gained some muscle…

_Apparently not._

He couldn’t hang there forever. He didn’t have the strength to, and with his fingers cramping up…

Dyus was suddenly falling, and from the height he was at, he wouldn’t survive hitting the bottom. Dyus stretched out an arm. If he was lucky he might catch an outcropping root. He’d likely dislocate his arm in the process, but if he could slow himself down…

His arm was grabbed instead, and he swung dangerously close to the cliff face.

“You just cannot stop dying, can you?”

_Master?_

Dyus’ eyes dropped, but at how far away the ground was, it made his stomach lurch. His gaze turned to the stone in front of him instead. “I apologize, my Lord. I did not think to encounter you here.”

“From your situation, it is clear you were not thinking at all.”

Dyus tried to shrink under the scrutiny, but he wasn’t having much luck - dangling by his arm as he was.

“How many times must I aid you before you are satisfied?”

“It was not my intention to burden you, Master Jyggalag.” He dared a glance up, finding Master Jyggalag with arm outstretched and feet planted against the force of gravity. His Lord was standing on the cliff face itself.

“And yet, here we are again. Perhaps I should just lock you up.”

“I could hardly be your Chamberlin from a single room, Master.”

His Lord seemed to chuckle, though the sound itself was more of a low vibration of the air, rather than an actual noise. “Indeed. I will have to come up with some other method.”

“Please do not burden yourself, my Lord. I am but your lowly servant. I’m sure there are others who would gladly take my place.”

“That may be so…and, they would certainly be less trouble than you.” Master Jyggalag seemed to contemplate his words, before releasing his wrist.

He fell, and panic began to grip his mind. Awaiting his inevitable end, he shut his eyes, only to land on something soft and stuffed with straw. He opened his eyes quickly, finding that he had landed on his own mattress, the silver portal snapping closed shortly after his realization.

He bounded from his bed, and ran to the library, determined to learn ‘Feather’.

****

_Was this how it was going to end? Him, dying in a slowly cooling pool of his own blood?_

He had been attacked on his way home, ambushed by someone he didn’t even know this time. All he knew was that they were out for blood, conveniently his blood. The iron dagger bit into his flesh easily, slipping in between his ribs to puncture his lung. Dyus had dropped like a rock, his attacker eager to search his pockets even as he fell.

He coughed, his blood splattering the crooked shape bent over him. They took his purse, and the rare books he had made the trip out especially for. Dyus was disappointed in himself. _How could he be so careless… such rarities were likely to be gambled away._

Dyus could only hope that his replacement could help Master Jyggalag at least as well as he could. He’d come back personally to haunt them… if… His thoughts were fading fast. He coughed, then gasped weakly. _It was hard to breathe._

There was a disappointed sigh at his side. A rustle of cloth as a stranger knelt beside him.

_Did his attacker come back? He had nothing else save for the clothes on his back… surely they could spare him that dignity after taking his money, his master’s books… his life._

“What was it this time?”

_Lord Jyggalag?_

He felt shame. _He was an inconvenience… wasn’t he?_ Dyus felt resigned to his fate. There was no way his master would bother bringing back such a nuisance.

There came another sigh, as a hand tucked under his neck to raise his head.

“Mas...ter…” Dyus could feel the blood sloshing around his mouth, feel the way it dribbled down his chin. He tried to swallow, but it just kept coming back up. His tongue was heavy with the taste of iron.

“Do not talk. You will splash me.”

 _Right…_ of course. Dyus kept his mouth closed instead - even as the pain of his injury threatened him to cry out.

“Where would you be without me?”

 _Dead… most likely._ It had been mere chance that he was taken in to work in the grand library as a young boy. He’d likely have starved that winter on his own.

Master Jyggalag waved a hand over his injury, a tickling silver light pulsing from his Master’s palm in time with his own heartbeat.

He winced as he felt the painful tickle of flesh melding back together. It seemed to take hours, but he was healed in a matter of seconds.

“My Lord?” he asked, patting his chest where the hole had been. Even the white cloth of his robe had been mended.

“It would reflect badly on me if my Chamberlain were to die in a back alley.”

“Of course, Master Jyggalag.”

His master nodded approvingly then padded away on light steps, leaving Dyus alone with his thoughts.

He was, of course, grateful that his master had saved him, but he didn’t want to continue being such a burden. Dyus walked shakily back to his master’s great library. It was going to be a long night, but well worth it if he could master ‘Ebonyflesh’ by morning.

****

Somehow, Dyus had made it to old age. A feat surprisingly difficult among his peers who had served under Master Jyggalag. Quite often they were replaced well before they saw their first grey hair.

_Maybe always having white hair had been a blessing? Maybe it never occurred to his Lord how many years had passed? After all, what were a few decades to an immortal being?_

Dyus shuffled down the hall as quick as he was able. He had been summoned, and he suspected it was finally his time to be dismissed. It hurt a little to think about, but he knew he couldn’t be around forever.

Entering the large hall, he kept his head politely bowed. “You called for me, my Lord?”

“Dyus.” His Lord addressed him with a wave of his hand. He seemed momentarily distracted, his dark almond eyes more focused on the pointed shard of crystal in his hands. “Your mortality is a problem…”

“I… I don’t…” Despite his age and the occasional ache, he had always done his work diligently. “Is everything in order? Have I failed you in some way?”

“No.” Master Jyggalag seemed to sense his unease, his expression softening just a trace, enough that a trained eye could find it. Enough that his eye could find it. His Lord was moving his thumb over one of the crystal’s flat sides. “But, I have created a way to at least fix that weak heart of yours.” His Lord proffered the crystal, it was nearly as big as his hand - fingertip to wrist.

For once, Dyus was hesitant to simply take what he was given. He bowed deeply. “You have been far too kind to me, my Prince. Had it not been for your frequent generosity I would not have lived as long as I have. But, to accept such a gi…”

His Master’s fingers trembled slightly around the crystal, a silent plea for Dyus to just accept it.

Dyus stopped talking, his mouth clamping closed again. In all his years, his Master's current expression was one he could not place. “Forgive me, I seem to have spoken out of turn.”

“No. It is fair for you to voice your opinion. Especially about this.” For someone who was always so confident, it was odd to see his Prince so hesitant. “But, you will accept…?”

“Of course, Master. If you would continue to have me.”

“Good.” Master Jyggalag subtly relaxed. “I will need you to bare your chest for me.”

An odd request, but Dyus complied regardless, pulling the top of his robe open for his Master. His only regret was that Lord Jyggalag would have to look at such disgraceful flesh - wrinkly, and covered with small blemishes.

Before him, the air crackled with magic as his Lord drew his near limitless power to himself. A soft blue shimmer seemed to envelop his shape, to gather at the shard of crystal in his hand. Lord Jyggalag turned the razor point onto Dyus, it aimed for the center of his chest.

Dyus had thought himself mentally braced for whatever his Lord would do, but he was ill prepared for the lightning licking across his nerves, as flesh and bone parted easily around the crystal. Instead, Dyus focused on Master Jyggalag’s expression, on the complete focus his Master had on the task at hand. But, even that failed to distract him pain. One hand held his back to prevent him from taking even a step back.

Uninterrupted, it would be seen to the end.

His lips flapped open and closed uselessly as tears dotted the corner of his eyes. His voice had been stolen.

Nothing in his long life had compared to this moment, his Lord’s magic spreading from the artifact in his chest and rewriting his flesh to his Master’s desire. The icy cold had wrapped around his heart to slow and eventually still the rapidly beating organ.

Then it was over. His Master beamed down at him with tired eyes, satisfied that his goal had been achieved without a hiccup.

At a loss for words, Dyus held his hand over his chest, finding his own weak heart no longer beat. Instead, the crystal pulsed under his palm, and unlike the cold of earlier, it was warm.

****

The smoke rose in thick dark plumes, choking everyone. The Great Library was burning. Acolytes were running, afraid.

_Who would dare do a thing?!_

The gaudy sound of extravagant heels clicked closer, followed by a joyous cacophony of giggles and laughter. Someone was enjoying the terror, the madness that the scarlet flames were causing as they licked up the library walls.

Dyus was in the process of rescuing what he could, prioritizing the books he had seen his Lord perusing more often. He climbed into the tall towers, knowing that he specifically kept those books away from the casual reader.

The tower shook as a vibrant root burrowed through the wall. He ducked, keeping his head low and his hands covering his head from the cascade of mortar, stone, and hardcovers. His Master had entrusted him with keeping the library safe, but he refused to be a complete failure in his entrusted task.

A shadow ahead of him remained stock still despite the surrounding chaos. There was only one he knew who could remain as such. “Master?”

The figure who approached him was not his master. Not anymore. Not with such flamboyant colors. He had heard rumor of the other Prince’s acting against his Lord, but… to see Master Jyggalag now. Dyus clutched his artificial heart, hoping it would remain as strong as when his Prince had first replaced it.

“What to do with you, ‘Die-on-us’?” Every word bubbled with emphasis, with flair. It contained no trace of his Lord’s usual monotone.

“Please! Come back!” He did the unthinkable, he grabbed the front of the colorful doublet, his fingers curling around the bright purple. “Master!”

All he received was a manic grin in return. There was no glimmer of what his master once was.

His hand retreated. “No… No…”

His previous master placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the surrounding grey stone. “This place is an abomination!”

Those words broke Dyus’ heart… metaphorically, but painful all the same.

Broken, he sunk to knees, just wanting the flames to consume him as it had the rest of the library and its occupants.

_He didn’t even understand anymore why he had been spared thus far._

“Logical predictions can’t prevail over personal choice, so it must be poofed away! But you…”

Dyus curled tighter on himself, his tears staining his lap. “I’m nothing. End me.” He had failed his master… his… _friend._

“No,” his prior master chuckled. “You are eVeryThinG little mouse, and… I may need you one day…”

Dyus’ tears stopped with his shock. He dared to look up, only to find himself inside some sort of prison. Pink butterflies fluttered around his body, each radiating a soft glow. A few landed on him, to bat their delicate wings in the surrounding gloom.

“For now you stay in your cage little mouse.”

He turned towards the voice, knowing he would only find more disappointment.

“Oh and let’s get rid of that boring mortality.”

A snap of fingers and the butterflies began homing in on his chest, his artificial heart acting as a beacon.

Panicking, Dyus fell backward. “No!!” He tried shooing them away with his hands, but the fluttering menaces fazed through them. They were going after the single thing that remained of his master. “No!!!” Dyus screamed again. The pink swarm burrowed into his chest, the soft glow from their bodies enveloping him. He could feel them wiggling inside of him, changing what his master had done for him; erasing what his master had done for him.

“No need to thank me! Have a nice never-ending tea party!!!” The footsteps disappeared, leaving Dyus alone. So very alone.

“M… Master…”

_There was no spell he could learn to fix this…_

****

The door to his prison opened for the second time that year. Twice as often as was usual.

Daring to hope he wasn’t imagining things again, he looked up.

It was his master. His true master, untarnished by madness. “M...Master?” Lord Jyggalag was alone this time, the Nord who had accompanied him the first visit, nowhere in sight.

_Could he dare hope…?_

“Sorry, Dyus. I have taken leave longer than predicted.”

Tears dotted the corner of Dyus’ tired eyes. He staggered forward, his limbs weak from disuse.

“Master!”

Despite his forwardness, he wasn’t pushed away - his embrace returned even.

“Let us go home, Dyus.”

“Of course.”


	12. Glaring [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyggalag can’t put his finger on what is so attractive about Rowan… Sanguine decides to pitch in, though the Daedric Prince of Debauchery has his own motivations for ‘helping’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Female Dovahkiin/Jyggalag, Male Dovahkiin/Hermaeus Mora, Sanguine, implied rape, gender swapping, gender transformation
> 
> I have to say like 90% of this is Skit’s mad inspiration at work. I had like no intention of making a third part to the “let’s have Jyggy not hate on Rowan as much train”, yet here it is.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, and he dreaded what would come of someone finding out.

It had started as something small, his visits to the Nord’s dwelling purely so he could see Moralove. He would have to engage in talking, reading, and generally pretending to be indifferent to the nuisance’s presence – a guise that quickly melted when his Amour-a’s back was turned. It was during these visits he would catch a familiar scent that pulled his eyes toward it.

Each time his dark eyes would land on the Pest, and each time his gaze would turn to cold steel that the Nuisance would rightfully shrink under; to eventually return its own pathetic attempt at a sneer.

_He’d refuse to acknowledge even the slimmest possibility…_

But, it kept happening. And each time, it took longer before his gaze turned cold; his nose trying to dissect the enticing smell that consistently drew him.

As much as tried to suppress his interest, there was only so long before _someone_ came sniffing.

That someone happened to Sanguine.

“How homey,” announced a honey-sweet voice, the mere presence of the other Daedric Prince an irritant.

‘Homey’ was an overly generous way to describe his realm – it requiring much of his remaining power to create the hall-sized space. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. Jyggalag didn’t appreciate another defiling its sanctity.

He growled. “What do you want? Come to mock how far I’ve fallen?”

“Oh, not at all. I’m sure you’re self-deprecating enough for my taste…”

“Then…?” Sanguine seemed relaxed, his guard down. Jyggalag could strike now; get in a few good hits before the other Daedric Prince could blink. Underestimating him even now would have grave consequences.

“I’ve heard you have a bit of a… problem you’d like dealt with?”

His fingers twitched away from his sword as his curiosity was momentarily piqued. “What do you have in mind?”

* * *

Rowan leaned up against the long table that took up a large section of his dining hall, sipping at a pitcher of water he had left out the night earlier.

He didn’t remember building the black-and-white doorway, and he certainly didn’t remember it being there last evening when he went to bed. Heck, he barely recognized the style; the doors being of the sliding variety over the traditional pivot hinge.

The Nord took another sip, a frown forming on his face.

If this was Mora’s doing, then the Prince was a week early for their usual rendezvous. If not… _well,_ the absence of color on the doors’ architecture could be considered a dead giveaway…

_But he had to know for sure._

He set the pitcher down and slid the door open, surprised to see Dyus standing calmly on the other side.

The other immortal looked much healthier than the last time Rowan had seen him. For starters, Dyus’ cheeks were less hollowed, and his deep eye bags were near non-existent. His ragged clothing had been switched out with a clean white robe, and a black, triangular trim sat around his collar and thin shoulders.

_Guess Jyggalag did go back for him._

“Master Felborne, Master Jyggalag has been expecting you.”

Rowan blinked blankly. Very few knew his last name, and even fewer were still alive to repeat it. Apparently, he could add Dyus to that short list.

“If you will…” The near albino bowed then gestured further in, taking the time to shut the monochrome door behind Rowan.

The Nord took the hint and walked on to where Jyggalag was waiting, hands held stiffly at his sides.

“I’m here. What do you want?”

“Mora has made it adamantly clear that, regardless of my opinion, you are here to stay…”

“So?”

The monochrome Daedra thrust a hand forward.

Rowan looked at Jyggalag’s extended hand with skepticism. “What?”

“A handshake. I was under the understanding that _your_ kind shook hands as a sign of good faith.”

He frowned, still not fully trusting the monochrome Daedra; but, Mora did say they had to get along better. With a sigh, he relented and gripped the Daedra’s hand.

Hissing, Rowan quickly retracted his hand from the Daedra's grip. “Ow… Only you could make a handshake painful…” A bead of red welled along the inside of his middle finger and he absentmindedly dabbed his tongue over the wound. “What in Oblivion is up with that ring, because that felt more than a little intentional.”

“A little,” Jyggalag agreed, spinning the ring on his pinky finger so that the… _thorns_ were no longer facing towards his palm.

“You…” Rowan was set to accuse, but the pitch of his voice shifted higher – embarrassingly so. She grabbed the hem of her trousers before they fell around her knees. The same couldn’t be said of her tunic as it draped dangerously low across one shoulder.

The monochrome Daedra hummed, the slightest quirk of a grin cracking through his indifferent façade. A hand came up to Rowan’s side and flipped the remainder of her tunic from her other shoulder. “Now you are symmetrical...”

Rowan was pretty sure she was bright red, and she may or may not have uttered a small squeak at the unexpected nature of the Daedra’s gesture.

A little unnerved, she found herself briefly stuttering. “Thi- this some new form of harassment?” Her uncovered eye stared accusatorily as she shrugged her too loose tunic back around her shoulders.

Jyggalag tilted his head, white hair sliding over a grey shoulder; an uncharacteristic grin spread wide. “You are much more tolerable like this…” He stepped closer, and Rowan retreated in kind until she bumped into a wall.

Boxed in between the Daedra’s arms and instincts feeling no immediate threat, she couldn’t help turning another shade brighter.

“How about we do as Moralove suggested, and get to know each other a bit more… _intimately._ ”

****

Besides her arms being shackled above her head, and her trousers dropping to her ankles in the process, Jyggalag hadn’t actually done anything… _yet._

He grabbed her chin, tilting her head up, down, left, right. His expression remained unreadable, even after he lifted the bottom hem of her tunic to confirm her recent lack of male parts.

Exposed, and thoroughly embarrassed, she uttered a murmured, “Go ahead. Get a good loo-” The rustle of clothing interrupted her complaint. “WHY ARE YOU UNDRESSING?!!”

Jyggalag continued to slide his clothes from his shoulder. “It’s only fair to show you mine…”

“I don’t want to see!!!” she exclaimed, tugging a little more desperately on her bindings with her eyes shut tight.

“Really?”

A hand stroked her inner thigh, and she couldn’t help glancing down. “By Oblivion… What is with that shape?!”

 _Frankly, Mora’s wasn’t exactly normal either, but…_ She blushed a little harder.

“It’s to bypass that ‘inner door’ deep inside you,” he said, his grin turning oddly catlike.

“What inner-?”

In one solid thrust, he speared her, silencing her question around its girth.

Rowan moaned, loud and shameful; though her sounds were quickly muted behind the tongue that dove into her mouth.

Her tunic was rucked up in one smooth motion, baring her toned belly and small breasts. A clawed hand trailed black talons across her chest to play with a dusty-rouge nipple. His thrusts continued in a quick, short rhythm, drawing muffled mewls that seemed to entice the Daedra further.

Their lips parted, the string of saliva connecting them snapped with the click of sharp teeth. With a full grin on his lips, he purred, “One last push and I’ll pass those doors…”

This time he pulled out further, the motion slicked from her desire, only to plunge back in. Rowan felt the Daedra push inside her, deeper than before and striking depths not yet reached. She shrieked, but it was a sound of pure pleasure. Her legs reached up to pull him closer, to coax his length deeper.

A hand briefly stroked the side of her face, drawing her eye to the Daedra’s pained expression. Silver ichor had gathered at the corner of his lip. For some reason, he had bit through it. His face was beading with sweat and he was shaking. Jyggalag looked like he was trying hard to suppress his own noises as she continued to pulse around him, and she wished for a moment to have her hands free to reach for him; to assure that otherwise stoic face.

Instead, she teased him, her own smile spreading on plush lips. “A little much for you? I didn’t take you for a virgin…”

His expression shifted to one of minor annoyance, but it no longer contained the hostility of earlier.

Jyggalag opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He pulled out of her and quickly dressed to greet their newcomer.

Sanguine lazed against the doorframe. “My turn?” the dark-skinned Daedra asked.

“Wait, what?!” Her eye darted from Jyggalag to Sanguine who was reaching for the chain holding her wrists together. She pulled and twisted, trying to get away – all the pleasant feelings from earlier, gone. Eyes locked with Jyggalag’s departing form, and she growled, “You-” only to be interrupted by Sanguine heaving her up onto his broad, dark-skinned shoulder.

“Oops-a-daisy,” Sanguine smirked, giving her a small smack on the bottom.

She yelped and started thrashing in his hold – her attempts mainly to get down from such a compromising position. It was clear that Jyggalag wasn’t going to interfere, but something had changed in his once certain expression.

Sanguine simply tightened his grip, having no intention of letting her escape.

****

“Welcome to your new home,” the Daedra announced cheerily, his tone ignorant of the sensual moans and whimpers echoing off the high rocks.

“What!?” His voice dragged her eye away from the empty bottles of skooma and stockades. “You can’t keep me here!”

A woman resting languidly along the bottom of iron cage spread her legs wantingly as they passed, and Sanguine gave an approving chuckle at the sight. “You gave me a ‘yes’ last time. It’s enough for me now.”

Dread coiled deep in her gut. “You can’t… Mora will find me,” she tried, desperate.

“I’ll make sure he won’t.”

He shifted her weight, making her bounce slightly as he continued deeper into his realm. The pink fog settled thicker in her lungs as she took a gasp, and her body offered a subtle quiver with the new heat rushing to her loins. Rowan caught the whimper before it could leave her lips.

Sanguine hummed and nuzzled into her side. “Oh, Darling… you don’t have to hide that beautiful voice of yours here… Let me hear everything you have to offer.”

With her face more than a little flamed, she agreed. “Feim Zii Gron!” The moment the thu’um left her lips, she was falling; Sanguine unable to keep a hold of her as her body turned ethereal.

Rowan landed hard against the deep red stone, but she was quick to find her feet. She rose and ran back the way they had come; her heart hammering and her lungs burning with her heavy breaths.

_The portal was still open. She could esc-_

Suddenly, her legs gave out. Her muscles quaking as a fire seared through her. She cried out with the shock of her arousal.

It didn’t take Sanguine long to catch up, to catch her still trying to claw her way to freedom.

“Forgot about that…” Scratching his chin, he crouched down beside her. “You almost made it, didn’t you?”

The Daedra was mocking her, and she glared fixedly as Sanguine lifted her by the shackles still around her wrists. It wouldn’t be long before Rowan could use her dragon shouts again.

_Not that Sanguine was going to let her._

Before she could think much about it, thick fingers were sliding into her mouth to part her teeth. Resisting the strength of her jaw, a leather-wrapped ball replaced Sanguine’s fingers and was tied tight behind her head – effectively sealing away any future thu’um.

An animalistic panic took hold of her then, and her hands reached hysterically for her eyepatch… for the rescue that lay behind it.

Sanguine saw her move and forced her hands further from her face. “It’s just going to be you and me from now on… How does that sound?”

Her furious response was muffled behind the gag.

“Excellent. I knew you’d agree.”

She shook her head frantically, the action taking the last of her resistance against the sweet smell that coaxed its way through her body. Small shudders reduced her resisting limbs to soft dough.

“Awww. Someone tuckered themselves out,” said the Daedra condescendingly, bringing her to a post that looked all too prepared for her – an engraving reading a patronizing, ‘ _Beware Dragonborn’_ , across its horizontal board. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel right at home in no time.”

_No…! Mora! Someone… Please… … Help…_

* * *

Jyggalag was calm; his mind at peace as he gathered a small trickle of power to himself – he had no way of pulling directly from Oblivion anymore.

“Congratulations, Master,” interrupted Dyus, his voice as monotonous as always. “You have successfully managed to get rid of your problem.”

The Daedric Prince continued meditating, letting the faint, soothing scents of incense wash over him.

Not dissuaded by his master’s silence, Dyus calmly continued. “I suppose your beloved will be very sad, but who could miss such a ‘cute’ nuisance? I’m sure Sanguine wouldn’t think of taking advantage of her weakened st-”

Each word jabbed at the guilt in his heart, and a flash of rosy cheeks and lush eyelashes lit behind his eyelids. “You make it sound like we’ll _never_ see her again…” Jyggalag paused, waiting for a response that… _oddly_ wasn’t coming. He opened his dark eyes to see his servant more rigid than usual. “Well...? What is her fate? What do you know?”

This time Dyus was a little more resistant to giving his opinion. “Master… Perhaps it’s better to think of other things…”

“Tell me!!!”

At his order, Dyus bent to whisper lowly in his ear. Each mumbled word drawing a twitch to Jyggalag’s brow.

Before long he was growling. “You’re going too far Sanguine… I won’t let you keep her _forever_.” He rose; his Zen-like state shattered. The little energy he had managed to gain drained completely as he used it to tear a portal between their realms. There were several choice swears muttered under his breath at the loss.

He rushed through the silver vortex, barely registering the chased, “Shall I prepare the bathing chamber for your return…?” from his servant.

* * *

_When would it stop…?_

_She was so tired…_

_Everything hurt…_

“It’s great having an immortal body to play with… You just heal so fast.” The giant length inside her was jostled, eliciting a muted whine as it slid out and past her overly abused entrance, trailing slick and blood. She twitched against her bindings, the leather around her throat and wrists holding fast. “I can just keep going without having to worry about breaking you…”

Rowan couldn’t raise her head up to meet her tormentor’s eyes anymore. She was just so tired.

“Well… your body anyway.”

Almost tenderly, a hand came to tilt her chin up, and hope flickered into her dazed expression. _Mora…?_

“You… you can’t even tell this is a disguise anymore…” Mora leaned in close. “That certainly puts a bit of a damper on things… And, here I was going to ask if you liked this version better or-”

There was a loud crack as Mora was sent flying.

* * *

Jyggalag was pretty sure he broke a finger, but it had been worth it to see Sanguine’s disgusting illusion shatter.

_No one will defile Moralove’s image like that!_

The other Daedric Prince continued to lie where Jyggalag had knocked him, likely to remain down for another few moments as he reconstructed the face Jyggalag had obliterated.

He turned to Sanguine’s captive, guilt crawling up his throat to choke him over how battered her body was.

She was in the process of healing, but it was sluggish, hampered by repeated use. It was torture to any immortal, and seeing her like _that…_ It wasn’t what he wanted; wasn’t what he thought would happen when he had left her to Sanguine’s whims.

There was a pang in his chest, and he hesitantly reached out to her.

“Let’s untie you…”

She offered no response. _Didn’t even look at him._ He felt another painful throb. The feeling was maddening, and he wanted it to end.

Quick fingers went to the band on her throat, then to the ones holding her wrists. The creature fell into him, limp and unresisting as he caught her. He loosened the gag and tossed it away, disgusted at how easily Sanguine must have incapacitated her.

Sanguine moaned, snapping his jaw back into place as he rose, drawing more of Jyggalag’s barely contained fury.

“Sanguine…” Jyggalag’s grip tightened and he pulled the dazed creature closer. Her skin felt hot, its warmth soaking into his hands. “What were you doing with her…?” Jyggalag cradled her, tucking one arm into the crook of her knees, the other supporting her back. She mewled weakly and curled tighter into him – her need for comfort so great she could ignore the strife between them.

“A little one-on-one. That is what you agreed to after all.”

“This is far beyond mere sport,” Jyggalag growled, turning back to the portal that led to his realm. The Nord was held tight in his arms.

“Hey! I’m not done! We had a deal!”

He returned Sanguine’s annoyed stare with a silent glare of his own. Slowly, a sly grin replaced his indifferent expression as an idea formed in his mind. “I never said ‘deal’… You may, however, have fun with Moralove’s wrath.” His teeth wrapped around the Nord’s eyepatch and partially lifted it from her face. He watched as the Daedric eye automatically swiveled toward Sanguine, and couldn’t help grinning wider as he dropped the patch of leather back over the yellow-green orb. _There was no need for Moralove to see more than that._ “Thanks for the ring though.”

Sanguine was sweating, and especially more so when a green and yellow portal opened up behind him. A booming drawl shattered the tranquility that had managed to momentarily claim Sanguine’s Dreamworld. “SANGUINE!!” Tendrils lashed out from the twining colors before Sanguine could escape.

“W-wait… Wait! Mor-” came the other Daedric Prince’s panicked cries as he was dragged away; the portal sealing on his… _unfortunate departure._

****

Once out of the sickening rose-colored fog, it didn’t take long before she opened her blue eye. The haze began to disappear from her mind, taking with it the worst of the nightmare from her time in Sanguine’s realm.

Rage was the first thing she could register, and it was all directed at him.

“Let me go, you bastard!” Despite her continued fever, she punched and kicked against Jyggalag’s hold.

He dodged one swing aimed at his nose, her fist striking his cheek instead. Jyggalag was quickly beginning to miss the more pliant creature from before. “Stop wriggling. I am trying to help.”

“Help yourself, more like.”

“If that was all, I needn’t have involved Moralove.”

She went quiet at that but didn’t completely cease her struggles.

_At least her punches weren’t aimed at his face anymore._

“Why did…?” came an eventual quiet grumble when it occurred to her that he really wasn’t going to let her down.

He couldn’t meet her gaze. “I… dislike Sanguine’s methods. Had I known…”

“How in Oblivion did you not know his intentions?”

There was no answer he was willing to give, especially when his own actions had been unexpected in the first place.

****

With an instinctual need to cleanse Sanguine’s scent from her was overriding any other thought at the moment, Jyggalag let her down in his cramped bathing space… _well, cramped to his standards anyway._

She was already naked, so it was only a simple matter of stripping down himself.

“Sit,” he commanded, maybe a little too harshly.

The Nord didn’t seem to notice as she collapsed, her legs still weak. She sat cross-legged – a little crass for the flower she had become – but had turned her gaze as he undressed, a light rose dusting the tips of her ears.

There were another one of those insatiable throbs in his chest, and he absentmindedly sat down beside her.

"Let's get you cleaned up…"

He tugged her to his lap with little resistance and began pouring water over the two of them from a filled wooden bucket.

Jyggalag lathed his tongue over the stench Sanguine had left behind; catching the barest hint of a bonding sight beneath the fading bruise. Needing to verify what he had smelled, Jyggalag pulled her in tighter.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, nosing into the junction between neck and shoulder.

 _It smelled so sweet, so… virginal._ How it remained so after Sanguine had her was beyond him. _Perhaps it was still too undeveloped to hold a mark permanently…_

Jyggalag’s lips parted, and he sucked – careful to not break the skin. His Amour-a would never forgive him if he accidentally took first bite – _undeveloped or not._

_It wasn’t enough…_

He switched to small nibbles, just enough to tease. Still sensitive, the Nord squirmed in his lap, and his lower member couldn’t help taking further interest.

Suddenly, she moaned, and he had to quickly turn his head away; his fangs instead sinking deep into his arm. Jyggalag grunted with the pain but couldn’t remove his teeth.

_Not until his desire passed._

Silver ichor bubbled around his lips, to dribble down his forearm and land with a soft plip against a creamy, white thigh. His jaw tightened at the sight, and a thumb came up to smear the drop against her skin, mixing the scents of oolong and red wine together. It seemed to help, and he could finally unlock his jaw.

“I’m not going to ask what that was about,” she said with a flustered face, eye darting between the smear of silver on her leg and his bleeding arm.

“Good.” Jyggalag dumped another pail of water over them, more to cool his own head then to wet them further – not that she needed to know that.

Before she could utter a retort, he worked his fingers through her hair, creating a small lather of suds from the soap sitting close by. She cringed as his nails dug into her scalp, to tug and unknot her tangled hair. “Stop squirming…”

“Hey, that hurts! Why are you being so damn thorough? I already took a bath last month.”

The revelation of her words was horrifying, and he felt an eye twitch. “That’s disgusting! You have to wash more often than that!!!” He resumed his cleaning, even more determined to make sure everything got a rigorous scrubbing.

“Gack!” she complained, retreating from his touch. Jyggalag chased after her, sponge in hand, yanking her back to create more suds over her back and shoulders.

"How dare you touch Moralove when you're that dirty?!"

"He doesn't seem to mind… Besides, I wash my face daily," she said snidely, all the while trying to escape.

To stop her from getting any further, Jyggalag had to pin her under his weight. "Stay still."

"You're heavy…"

"And, you keep trying to run…"

"I can wash myself."

"Evidently not." He rose, expecting another struggle, but she had decided to stay still. He took that as a confirmation to continue.

The Nord shrieked and held back stifled laughter, especially when he ran the sponge over the dip of her back working towards her buttocks. He did it again, earning another muffled giggle as her ears turned a darker red.

"N-not there…" she whined, pushing his hand away from the seemingly sensitive spot along her spine.

He let her, as he was pretty much done anyway, despite his sudden want to torment her further. “Turn around and let me do your front.”

Sitting up, she obliged him, but her arms were covering much of her torso. The creature held out an expecting hand. “Hand me that. I’m sure I can manage this much.”

Jyggalag was reluctant to hand over the sponge, but eventually conceded.

She accepted it with little flourish and set to scrubbing her front with stiff, awkward movements.

“Done,” she announced shortly after, tossing him back the sponge.

Jyggalag held the wet sponge, contemplating the creature in front of him. “Not quite… There’s still one place left.”

It took a few seconds for her thoughts to catch up. She laughed weakly. “Haah… no need.”

He flipped back a few strands of his hair that had fallen forward. “I insist…”

“Really. You don’t need to put yourself out for me.”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he purred, the catlike grin returning as he encroached on her retreat.

* * *

She slipped along the soapy floor, landing on her back with limbs sprawled. Her face was burning, and there was no question about how red she was as Jyggalag navigated her ankles to his shoulders.

Feeling immensely self-conscious, her hands came up to shield her face as she waited for what the Daedra had planned.

And, waited…

Rowan risked peeking through her fingers, finding the Daedra just… staring. “Hello…? Jyggalag?”

He was lost in his own world; lost and thoughtful as a finger delicately traced along the lips of her heat. “How could he molest such a delicate flower…?”

The feather-light touches continued, and Rowan could feel herself twitching as she fought back the small noises trying to escape.

“Master, I must regretfully inform you that you can’t use soap there…”

Suddenly, Rowan had no problem suppressing her sounds as Dyus made his presence known, her hands coming up to cover what she could of her chest and dignity.

Dyus appeared impassive regardless.

With a quick bow, he placed the bundle he had been carrying near the farther pool of steaming water, then bowed again. “The clothes you requested, Master.”

Jyggalag dismissed him with a curt gesture, barely looking in his direction. “Thank-you. That is all.”

“As you wish it.”

Her gaze followed Dyus’ departing form, a sigh of relief on her lips. “That’s too bad then…”

Rowan thought Jyggalag would leave it at that as she tried taking her legs back, but a quickly uttered, “No problem,” had her attention returning to the Daedra.

“Hu-” A sudden blush crept into Rowan’s cheeks as his face dipped towards her crotch. “Wait!!! No… N…ngh…”

A deft tongue had chosen that moment to quiet her behind a flood of pleasure, and hands climbed her hips to pull her closer. Her fists clenched as her head was thrown back, and small tremors racked her body.

The gentle licking turned to sucking, and she could feel the heat pool in her belly. When the sensation became more insistent, Rowan knew the attention needed to stop. “Jyggalag… hold on…”

Either he didn’t hear or didn’t want to, as he continued to lavish her with his skillful tongue and lips.

Her thighs trembled around his ears and Rowan bit her lip to try and stem the coming tide. “Jygg-” Her body clenched, and the lewdest moan slipped past her lips as she came messily.

An awkward silence stretched between them, and all Rowan wanted to do was crawl into a hole.

Fortunately, it seemed like the Daedra was in a similar mental space. “Yes… well…” Releasing his grip on her hips, he cleared his throat. “You should be clean enough now.”

“Thanks…” She quickly got her legs back under her.

“Rinse off, then feel free to use the bath. It should help ease the rest of your aches.” He wasn’t able to meet her eye.

_Was the Daedra embarrassed? Impossible._

Rowan emptied the entire pail over her head, letting the cool water wash away the suds and her flush.

With legs were still weak from her orgasm, she managed to make it to the ring of natural rock. Rowan stuck a toe out, and she quickly discovered that the water was tolerably hot, and soon the rest of her followed suit. She sunk to her shoulders, enjoying the heat soaking into her bones. The ambient noise of fresh water flowing into the bath was enough to set her mind at ease… at least until it was joined with the soft splashes of Jyggalag sliding in opposite.

Skeptically, she watched him settle in, but he was focused on enjoying the shared warmth rather than her as he lounged back into the circle of smooth stones lining the bath.

Rowan managed to relax for awhile, but soon she had grown antsy, and boredom had her fidgeting in her seat. Rowan figured she might as well find her clothes in the stack Dyus had brought in.

Dripping water, Rowan pulled herself out and tugged the clothes closer.

“These aren’t my clothes…” She rifled through the once neat pile of expensive fabrics, not finding even a scrap of the clothing she had owned.

Jyggalag shifted lazily in the warm water. “And, your point would be…? You don’t fit those rags. Not anymore, anyway.”

“This isn’t permanent…” Regardless of her initial annoyance, Rowan grew more distressed as she pondered the implications. “Is it?”

He shrugged, the Daedra’s mannerism indicating he didn’t care enough to find out.

Sinking back until her nose was just above the steaming water’s surface, she kept her back to him.

Admittedly, Rowan was starting to feel better, her aches and pains eased by the hot water. Her biggest worry had shifted to why she hadn’t changed back yet.

As usual as her peculiar transformations have grown of late, each had lasted mere hours… this instance has begun to exceed even the longest. She needed to get away to figure things out on her own, but Jyggalag was keeping too close an eye on her.

“You still look tense… Let me help you.”

Rowan spluttered, having been too focused to hear Jyggalag approach. “Whoa!” she exclaimed, shaking off the hand that had begun kneading into her shoulder. The hand persisted, despite her initial protests, to be joined by another to massage her other shoulder.

Surprisingly, and reluctantly, she found herself relaxing under Jyggalag’s touch. “Alright… so you’re good for something after all…”

Half-expecting some sort of reaction, Rowan was amazed when there was none.

Glancing back, she said, “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you or something…”

Jyggalag was silent for a moment before his shoulders sagged with a sigh. “I know…”

Admittedly, Rowan was shocked. She hadn’t expected the guilt to be weighing that heavily on the Daedra – especially considering their hostile history. _Was this even the same Daedra as earlier?_ She took another glance at the Daedra. He had turned away himself and sinking deeper into the water.

_Maybe she had been a little harsh… No. This is the same bastard that had been making her life a terror. But…_

Rowan sighed. “Thank-you though… For saving me earlier…” mumbled Rowan more to the surrounding rocks than to Jyggalag. Her face felt flush. “And… and…” Feeling light-headed, she stopped, and before she knew it, a strong arm had come around her shoulders to stop her from sinking.

“I think you’ve spent a little too long in the bath. The hot water is getting to your head.” Jyggalag helped her upright and led her to the water’s edge.

Exhaustion from the day’s events set in and she couldn’t remember if she had gotten out on her own… or if the Daedra had carried her.

* * *

_Rowan_ … That was the Pest’s name; the one that competes with him for Moralove’s attentions.

The creature held in his arms was no such pest. Didn’t deserve a name that drew so much of his ire.

 _Rowi was a far more appropriate name,_ he thought decidedly. It felt softer somehow… more suitable to the scent that enticed him.

Before he knew it, a small rumble had left him and he didn’t immediately hate his own natural reaction. He even went as far as to nuzzle into her hair briefly.

_Rowi it was then._

* * *

Rowan’s first thought was, she was comfortable… incredibly comfortable. So much so, Rowan was suspicious. She opened her eye and let her vision come into focus in the dim lighting.

_Was it already night? Was nighttime even a thing here…?_

She sat up; the thin material of the robe she had been loosely dressed in, slipping from her shoulder with a quiet rustle.

“Awake…?” From under the light of a single candle, Jyggalag was reading. The long scroll stretched out across the low table he sat cross-legged at. He had dressed in the time she had been unconscious, a black-and-white robe fitting over his broad frame.

“Care to explain about these clothes?”

“No,” he answered, dodging the pillow that had been aimed at his head.

_Figures…_

Sighing, Rowan picked at the fine material. It was a fine woven cotton – that much she knew – but the style was completely foreign. For starters, the belt was too thick… _And, what was with the flower attached to her eyepatch?_

With smooth motions, Jyggalag had set the scroll down and stood. He came to kneel beside her.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Why are you so adorable?”

Rowan could honestly say, from all the things she was expecting the Daedra to say, being called ‘adorable’ wasn’t even on the list. She felt her face immediately start to heat up, and she had to glance away.

_For shame, Rowan! You’re blushing like some pure maiden._

A gentle hand came to cup her chin drawing her eye back to Jyggalag. He was leaning in and she found herself caught up in his gaze. She could hear some small part of her shouting, telling her this was a bad idea.

_But…_

There was just something about the way the soft candlelight reflected in his dark eyes, the way the dancing shadows played along the hard lines of his face.

Rowan didn’t stop him from closing the gap, didn’t push him away as their breaths ghosted against each other, their lips so close to touching. Her eye drifted closed.

 _Danger…_ her mind supplied, breaking her from the trance she had fallen under.

Her eye shot open, and she could see how close they had come. Panic was the only thing on her mind now.

“I can’t!” Furiously blushing now, her hands came up to cover Jyggalag’s lips. “I can’t cheat on Mora… How…? How can you…?”

Jyggalag could only tilt his head at her outburst. “I don’t see any problem… Daedra often share the same mate.” His hands had come up to rest on her shoulders, his thumbs moving in small soothing motions.

_Mates… Sharing Mora…?_

The image of Mora sandwiched between them, breathless and panting, flashed behind her eyes. “That sounds so… perverted.”

“And yet, I still hear interest…”

She was pretty sure steam had started rising from the heat on her face.

“Just accept, Rowi…”

_Rowi...?_

Rowan couldn’t take anymore; she was sure her face was on fire. She ducked Jyggalag’s lips as he tried once more to kiss her, and started for the twin sliding doors she recognized. If she could make it through those, Rowan would be home.

* * *

Suddenly, the warmth in his arms had vanished, the alluring scent fled.

But, Jyggalag didn’t have to worry. Rowi couldn’t make it past his barrier on her own.

His chasing steps were slow, purposeful.

“Have you stopped to ponder _why_ you are weaker like this?” mused Jyggalag. “After all, female Dragons are the stronger of their species, and, of course, Daedra are genderless… Perhaps it is the nature of a forced transformation… or… is it a bleed through of your own hopeful yearning…”

Rowi hadn’t heard. She far too focused on wrestling with the doorway. It wasn’t until he came to stand beside her that her attention swiveled back to him.

“Admittedly, as you _were_ , our strength was equal. As you are now… Well, I won’t stop you from trying.” He gestured to the doorway she had entered his realm through.

She shoved him aside and tried to slide it open again, but it wouldn’t move. Rowi tried even harder, throwing her full weight into it.

“Having trouble?”

Glaring, she pivoted. The door hadn’t even budged either time. “You would know.”

“It is only as I have said…” Jyggalag closed the space between them. “Let me protect you.”

He raised a hand to brush a strand of fallen hair away from her blue eye, the backs of his fingers moving gently over pale flesh.

“Ow…” She flinched, and Jyggalag quickly withdrew his hand, just now realizing he had kept the ring on the whole time. A bead of red grew and fell along the line of her jaw, and by the time it had hit the floor: the two of them were again at near eye level. The Nord’s shoulders had grown obnoxiously wide and were stretching the kimono farther than the material could allow – ripping out the stitching on one side.

His eyes narrowed at the growing stench of forge fire and leather as it overwhelmed the subtle aroma of rich wine that he had grown accustomed to.

****

Grasping what just happened, Rowan ran. Jyggalag’s stunned silence giving him the opportunity to try the door once more and get it open before the Daedra would stop him.

This time Rowan was far more successful.

He stumbled through, smacking into his own dining table in his urgency. “Miraad Gron Viik.” The dragonshout left his lips as he turned, slashing the doorway to ribbons – to leave only a burned-in afterimage.

Rowan slumped to the floor, his heart racing. The Daedra had looked near murderous when the doorway between them had been ripped apart by his thu’um. _Likely some sort of revenge was already being planned…_

A curious squirk sounded from beside him.

“And where were you?” he asked the small floating creature.

He got a gurgle for an answer.

“Asleep? Some guard dog you are…” Rowan was kidding of course. It had been his own curiosity that had got him in trouble in the first place.

Squid gave him a huff and then floated off, offended that he could suggest such a thing even as a joke.

Rising stiffly to his feet, Rowan sighed. The robe he had been dressed in was essentially torn to shreds – ripped and shredded by his larger appearance. Its sash pulled tight across his middle and he desperately wanted to get out of it so he could catch a proper breath.

He awkwardly tugged it from his body, trying his best to remove it as it had been designed, only to end up tearing another hole with his mild contortions.

There was no hope that he could repair it now… even if he had been inclined to. Instead, he tossed the scale-patterned cloth to the glowing coals. It smoldered for a few seconds before catching fire, the flames burning white-hot.

Rough fingers pulled his hair out of the carefully crafted bun, then traced slowly over the flower that had been pinned to his eyepatch. He eventually pulled that free too.

_Jyggalag... Seriously… Just what…?_

The white carnation sat innocuously enough in his hand, but he knew it had been luck that had allowed him to escape. Rowan gave serious thought to tossing the flower to the dying flames as well, but… _‘Rowi…’_

His teeth ground together and he groaned with frustration. 

_He couldn’t bring himself to do it._

The flower ended up in the nearest lockbox; where he just continued to stare at it.

“Rowan! So, here you are…” A tendril came to drape over his shoulder.

Mora’s voice startled him, and he slammed the lockbox closed, sealing away the white carnation. Rowan turned to his worried lover, a few more tendrils slinking over his body to inspect his skin.

Catching Rowan’s head between his hands, Mora’s onslaught of questions started. “Are you okay? What did Sanguine do?”

Still unsure of how much of his most recent adventure he should be sharing, Rowan could only smile dumbly.

“How did you get back…?” The questions trailed off as Mora caught a whiff of something.

Rowan was yanked forward in a sudden bundle of possessive tendrils. He knocked heads with Mora, though Mora didn’t seem to notice as his yellow-green gaze grew focused.

“Why do you have Jyggy’s scent on _that_ spot…?”

_Oh… right… Opps… That was a thing he was supposed to be careful about now…_

“Not to mention everywhere else…”

“Uhhhh… well…” Rowan started weakly, his gaze drifting away from the intensity of Mora’s stare. “Sanguine bit-“

Mora’s stare had turned deadly, and Rowan was momentarily glad it wasn’t aimed at him – though that fact hardly slowed the tendrils tightening around his body.

“Errr… well, ‘tried’… Jyggalag felt it was necessary to help out before anything too serious happened…”

The tendrils relaxed at that. “Oh? He did?” Mora looked mildly surprised, happy even.

“Yeah… The bastard even dumped me into a bath afterward. I guess that might explain the smell…” Rowan stopped. He was pretty sure Mora wasn’t listening anymore. “Mora…?”

Somewhat elated, Mora continued to ignore him. It was a good chance as any to slip away and get into some clothes.

A hand coming to grip his shoulder stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Rowan gulped. There was a certain glint in Mora’s eyes he didn’t like. “Uh, I want some pants?”

Squishing up cheek against cheek, the Daedric Prince grinned. “But we’re not done yet…” The tendrils wrapping around him had grown slick and were leaving translucent black-green streaks where they rubbed. It didn’t take long before he had been completely covered in the ink-smelling substance.

“Mora?”

“Hmmm…?” Sharp teeth trailing along his skin, the Daedric Prince nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

He winced as those same teeth found purchase and buried into his flesh, but he was starting to get used to Mora’s increasingly frequent ‘love bites’ – as he jokingly called them. “You do realize I’m going to have to wait until all this dries before I can put on anything now?”

The Daedric Prince released him temporarily to reply. “And, you must feel so hard-done-by.” Mora wasn’t deterred in the slightest, and the tendrils prodding around Rowan’s hole already had a few ideas on how to spend the time.

“Of course,” Rowan teased, already pressing back against Mora in return. He reached around to bring Mora’s face closer to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips. “What ever are you going to do to make it up to me this time?”

“Won’t you be surprised.”

It didn’t take much convincing for the pair of them to navigate to his bedroom, Mora practically rushing him to the bed.

Rowan landed on the mattress with a slight bounce, and his lover slid between his parted thighs. “Tell me, Mora?” he started as Mora leaned in to kiss him.

“Hmmm?”

“Have you ever shared mates before?”

Mora froze, his eyes shooting open. Within seconds the Daedric Prince had retreated into his amorphous form and bonked into the ceiling.

_Opps… It probably hadn’t been the best timing for that sort of question._

“N-No…” answered Mora shakily. There was more going on behind Mora’s sudden and odd switch in behavior, but Rowan figured it would be better to leave it alone for now.

_Jyggalag’s offer might have been rare after all..._

He caught a dangling tendril and slowly reeled the black-green mass of eyes and tendrils away from the ceiling. “It’s okay, Mora. I was just curious.”

“Yes, well…” The Daedric Prince still refused to transform back. “At least Jyggalag is friendlier towards you now.”

_If that’s what you call it…_

“At least there’s that,” Rowan hesitantly agreed out loud. “Now, come here.” He gave the shy cloud another tug to pull him into his arms.

His hug was returned with a few tendrils curling around his limbs and in a blink later he was softly butting heads again, though Mora still seemed a little stiff from their earlier discussion.

“So…” Rowan started. “What should I do to cheer you up… ‘Master’?”

Twitching slightly with newfound embarrassment, the Daedric Prince’s ears turned a dark hue.

“ _Master…?_ ” Rowan repeated, and a smirk slid onto his face with his lover’s continued fluster.

Mora turned his gaze away. “I thought I was supposed to make things up to you…” he grumbled slightly.

Rowan tugged him into a tight embrace. “I think you just did.”


	13. The Aftermath [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a week since Rowan last dealt with the Daedric Prince of Order. He thought it would the last time. He wasn’t that fortunate, but then again… neither was Jyggalag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Female Dovahkiin/Jyggalag, gender swapping, gender transformation, dub-con
> 
> Pretty much anything going forward with Jyggalag in it has had Skit's loving influence xD (aka, I owe most of these amazing ideas to her, and I hope I did these ideas justice)

It had been about a week since Rowan had destroyed the gateway between his home and Jyggalag’s realm. One week of Rowan worrying about what sort of revenge the monochrome Daedra had planned. Then Turdas came, and he was forced to stop thinking about it as his distraction would only worry Mora.

To chase away the creeping chill outside, Rowan had spent that morning chopping extra firewood and starting a roaring blaze in the Hall’s. By early afternoon, it was finally warm enough for his cold adverse lover. What he had prepared less for was Jyggalag to tag along… again.

_Maybe he should suggest changing the date... Maybe to something a little more random: to throw the monochrome Daedra off. It’d also positively annoy the once Daedric Prince of Order._

At least Squid was happy to greet their visitors in Rowan’s place, bouncing excitedly up to Mora to greet him with a series of ecstatic chirps. Mora let the small, tentacled creature climb up to his robed shoulder.

“Rowan? Is something the matter?” he asked, noting Rowan’s stiff behavior as the Daedric Prince offered a few pets to Squid.

_So much for hiding his current mood…_

His uncovered eye briefly glanced over to Jyggalag before returning to Mora. “Nothing. Must have woken up too early…” Rowan stretched and offered a short yawn. He didn’t even have to fake it as much as he thought, as he hadn’t been able to sleep well the night before.

“You should take better care of yourself,” Jyggalag said curtly, not making eye contact as he passed carrying a small package smelling faintly of sweets.

“I’ll make a note of that,” replied Rowan with equal feigned disinterest of the other.

 _Nothing seemed to have changed between them…_ Rowan was relieved. _Almost…_ A phantom limb twitched in disagreement – a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Rowan still had to deal with Jyggalag being here in the first place, nearly glued to Mora’s side. He never thought he would have been a jealous man, _but…_ “I still have to rearrange a few things in the storage room… Make yourselves comfortable.”

_He needed to cool his head._

“Oh… alright. Be back soon.” Mora sounded a little dejected, and Rowan couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about his behavior.

Jyggalag offered no indication that he had heard. _As far as he was concerned, Rowan might as well have been invisible._

“I’ll try…” Rowan replied, already guessing how long he could hide before Mora got suspicious.

He headed towards the storage room but had apparently finally caught Jyggalag’s attention in the process.

“Here.” The Daedra stalked dangerously close and dropped a heavily decorated pastry in his hands.

_Guess Jyggalag wasn’t as angry as he had thought…_

“Thanks…”

_Was he almost… relieved?_

Having heard their brief exchange, Mora turned away from his book. He seemed thrilled. “It’s rare for you to give up your sweets, Jygg…”

Rowan couldn’t help the small twitch of his lip. He hadn’t exactly been intending to eat Jyggalag’s ‘gift’. _Didn’t trust him enough to eat anything from him… yet._ Besides, the small flower design nestled in the pink frosting reminded Rowan far too much of the white carnation he had locked away. _Had tried to forget about…_

But, Mora was watching him expectantly.

With a hidden sigh, he took a bite, surprised to find he enjoyed it. Around his second bite, he uttered a mumbled, “I’m off then.”

It was as he was closing the storage room door behind him, that he felt a sharp sting. Looking down, he saw a red slash across his thumb.

“Have fun… _Rowi…”_ Rowan heard the Daedra whisper through the crack before the door had fully closed.

 _Don’t tell me…_ He could still see the smirk Jyggalag must have had as the Daedra stung him with Sanguine’s ring.

* * *

He had to admit, while his revenge might have been a little underhanded, it was almost worth it alone just to see the panic flicker across the Pest’s face.

Jyggalag returned to where Moralove had found a warm corner.

“I still have to thank-you from last time, Jygg. I’m glad to see you two starting to get along.”

_If only Moralove knew…_

“No problem.”

Preparing for a more serious topic, his Amour-a closed his book. “I still can’t choose… Sorry.”

Jyggalag dragged a chair up beside him and sat down. “But I’m not asking you to choose…” He drew a finger along Moralove’s chin, instigating a curious look.

* * *

The pastry tumbled from her fingers as Rowan’s trousers slid similarly from her rounded hips to the floor. The heat had started in her belly, spreading across nerves to alight her lust.

 _Jygg…alag…_ That cupcake had been a trap.

She hadn’t been this horny in a while, but she’d be damned if she went back to Mora and Jyggalag like this.

_Rowan wasn’t sure what she’d do in this state._

When her trembling legs couldn’t hold her anymore, she fell to the floor. She was so hot, and she could feel her body craving something, anything between her legs to cool the heat spreading across her thighs.

 _You sly, petty bastard…_ It was evident that this was her punishment for wrecking the doorway. _You’ll pay for this..._

Hesitant fingers traveled towards her entrance; to somehow relieve her fervor. The first finger breached her heat, and Rowan’s breath hitched for a moment.

_She couldn’t believe what she had been reduced to…_

Another finger entered and another. She stifled the moan as she attempted to fuck herself on her fingers. Her desire mounted further, and Rowan could feel how close she was as her other hand toyed with a sensitive breast. But, the heat wouldn’t grow beyond that point and wouldn’t diminish either. It was like her body was somehow held in a twisted limbo.

Rolling onto her side, Rowan grew desperate. Her thighs closed tight around her hand to encourage a stronger friction as she worked her fingers faster in and out. Still the same result. Still the same torturous lust pooling between her legs that spread throughout her entire body.

_She needed something else… anything else._

“Did you learn from your punishment, Rowi?”

A steel voice speared through the haze clouding her mind, and Rowan retracted her fingers.

“You’re lucky. Moramour had an ‘emergency’. So, you’re lesson will be cut short… _this time._ ”

Somehow she managed to sit up, her legs folded under her as she knelt with her hands covering her breasts. “A lesson?! For what? Going home?” She curled tighter, trying to cover more of her flushed body from Jyggalag’s sight. “If this is your idea of a punishment, you’re as perverted as Sanguine!”

The line of his lip tightened as he was compared to the other Daedra. “If you know what it is for, you still dare to ask why?”

“Yeah, I dare actually.”

An exclamatory chirp drew Jyggalag’s attention briefly away, but Squid was trapped on the other side as the monochrome Daedra had quickly closed the door behind him.

_Rowan couldn’t expect a rescue anytime soon as the creature had yet to learn how to use a round doorknob._

“You!” Jyggalag growled, a vein throbbing along his temple. “Do you have any IDEA how much time is needed to build a doorway for me!?”

Her eye momentarily landed on the silver band set on her left hand. Mora had changed its enchantment to let her take it off if need be – her previous run-in with Sanguine had been too close for comfort.

 _Should she…_ She could feel the beast crawling beneath her skin, just waiting for her to remove the ring - her dragon half. Rowan hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she could control it in this state, and it desperately wanted out… more so than usual, and likely responding to her recent mixed feelings about the Daedra standing opposite.

“A week…?” guessed Rowan, her fingers teasing with the ring sliding it to her fingertip absentmindedly.

“ONE. MONTH!!”

Rowan flinched under the Daedra’s aggressive tone and the ring accidentally slipped from her finger. It fell with an unceremonious clatter to roll out of reach.

Her Dragon side was near elated, and was already pressing up against her will to seize influence over her personality.

_Oh, no…_

“And, you shredded it in mere seconds,” Jyggalag continued giving her forehead a jab. “So, unless I hear an ‘I’m sorry’ from you… I won’t give you the antidote.”

_She should try to get the ring back before it got worse, but… What was that smell? It smelled so good…_

Her eye flicked down Jyggalag’s body, and she swallowed around the heavy knot in her throat.

_She wanted more…_

* * *

“Are you even listening?!” He shifted his weight as he stood waiting for a response, then he saw her head dip. “Hey… are you alright?”

Getting no response, Jyggalag tried again; this time giving her shoulders a slight shake. “Hey, Rowi...?” Trying to see if he could tell what was wrong, he gave a tentative sniff, only to nearly recoil from the predatory scent slowly twining with her usual wine rich smell.

It would have been attractive had he been at full power. Now, it only served to make him wary.

“R…Rowi??”

He wasn’t sure if the twitch of her lip had been from him saying her name or the fang suddenly poking out from under her top lip. Jyggalag wasn’t given long to ponder, when a hand latched to the bottom of the deep ‘v’ on his front and tugged dangerously downward.

Jyggalag retreated, much to Rowi’s evident disappointment as she chased him with a low growl in her chest.

“Give me your _cure!_ ” Her eyes were trained on a location he would rather they weren’t.

“That’s not-” he started as she launched at him again. “No. Rowi. Stop!”

He twisted out of her path and scrambled to the top of a pile of boxes. Fortunately, it seemed that Rowi was no longer coherent enough to pursue him up.

“I want an apology…”

Sharp nails trailed deep lines through the wood, and he noted that her visible eye had changed to a slit pupil. “Meeeeeeat,” she whined.

“Noooo… ‘Sorry’.”

“Meat,” chirped Rowi, still clawing at the boxes. She looked so pathetic and if it hadn’t been for the dangerous scent wafting from her, he might have fallen for her currently adorable behavior.

“‘Sorry’,” Jyggalag repeated.

The only response he received was a sad mewl as she sank back to her knees, dejected that he was still out of her reach.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying to you anymore?” He leaned over to catch a large blue eye peering up at him sadly.

Suddenly, movement.

Her arm shot out and grabbed a chunk of his hair that had draped too close, and with a hard yank, she pulled him from his perch, pinning him to the floor. “Got you, Sweet Prey…” Hands smoothed over his front as she came to straddle him; her striped… _tail_ coiling around his legs.

Then he saw a ring on the floor and knew he had made a mistake.

_The Dragon had never been placated, just made dormant… And, he had just forced it into a heat…_

Those same hands slid over his chest, freeing a nipple from the confines of his top. She leaned in deep to scent him, her tongue dabbing at the sensitive nub. With a kiss of lips, she sucked, drawing a groan with it.

When she was done, Rowi pulled off him to cup his face with black talons. “Gonna eat you whole, Meat!” Rowi stated with a little more enthusiasm than he would have ever liked.

“Enough Rowi! It’s time to stop,” he tried to reason with the creature as her rounded ears grew pointed. “Just say ‘sorry’ or I’ll be really mad at y-”

She licked a stripe up his nose, completely ignorant of his complaint. “Kip must stay still…”

Jyggalag tried to push her off, but Rowi refused to be moved.

The Dragon took a breath. “KAAN DREM OV!!!”

There was no mercy as the thu’um struck him, severing his mind from his body. He fell back with a hard thump, his body content to remain placid despite how many times he tried to get it to move.

“Better,” she praised. “But, you still must be _punished_ for invading my den…”

Humming, Rowi shifted on top of him, her new claws slicing through the fabric of his clothes like soft butter. He was laid bare before the predator, her eyes drinking up his shape as if she had been deprived for centuries.

“For sticking close to _my_ mate.” She leaned across him, to lap at his bonding sight.

Jyggalag tried to squirm away as the sensitive patch of skin was molested, but he could do no more than shut his eyes. When the licking and sucking were joined by the flash of teeth, his eyes snapped open as desperation took hold. It didn’t matter that Rowi was still too juvenile to be able to leave her own mark on him, or that her fangs were not yet sharp enough to pierce his skin.

Finding he could just barely move his arm, he urged it into the direction of the fallen silver band. It was just out of reach of his fingers.

In the meantime, Rowi lost interest in his bonding spot, instead trailing her tongue over his chest as her claws dug shallow grooves into his abdomen. The new injuries stung, but it was better than the torment of earlier… though, not by much when those same touches traced over his sheath and his cock sprung forth.

There was a satisfied chuckle as Rowi’s tail swished happily behind her. “Where is your ‘discipline’ now?”

Jyggalag’s face flushed a blue hue; he hadn’t had this little control over his own body since he was a fledgling.

_Had this… monster been set loose on Moralove as well?_

He wasn’t given much time to think about it. Rowi had started moving again, her entrance rubbing against the base of his cock. “Mora was right… such cute faces you keep hidden…”

She briefly removed herself from his lap, not that it helped his situation any: his body was still trapped in reluctant compliancy.

“But, at least your… _blade_ is honest,” she coyly teased, tracing careful lines up his length to play across his dual slits. Her tongue followed suit, and he could feel a tremor working its way up his throat.

The Dragon licked her lips. “Time to eat!”

 _Wha- Nrrrgh…_ His voice still wouldn’t come, not even as she took him in, her mouth surprisingly gentle as her tongue and lips worked around his cock.

It wasn’t long before his breath came in heavy pants, his body fire hot. Even the thin layer of his shredded clothes felt like too much.

 _How could she still smell so good?_ A part of him just wanted to drown in that exotic scent…

His eyes slid closed as his body arched involuntarily. And, when she did finally release him, Jyggalag found himself wishing he had enough control of himself to follow the warmth of her mouth.

“I can’t wait anymore…” Rowi sounded almost apologetic as she repositioned herself over him, to sheath him into her wanting heat.

She took him to the hilt in a greedy motion, twisting and rolling to pleasure herself along his blade.

_Padomay have mercy!_

The cutest sounds pushed past plush lips as she started to ride him.

Compared to the instinctual self-preservation that had gripped him earlier, he found himself relaxing into her rhythmic thrusting; only for fangs to ruin the peace he found as they sunk deep into his neck, pulling a startled orgasmic moan from his lips.

That was when he noticed onyx horns sweeping back over dark hair.

He didn’t need much convincing to know how bad his situation had gotten. Whatever control Rowi had over this beast was slipping and her transformation was beginning to speed up. The fact that her teeth were in his neck now was proof enough.

He tried for the ring again, putting everything he had into making his traitorous body move.

_Just a little more…_

As if sensing his intentions, Rowi’s tail flicked by, sending the ring further away. “Naughty, Meat.” Her heat tightened, and his fingers reflexively clenched around nothing. “No depending on that fancy trinket. It’s not yours to use…”

Jyggalag was momentarily puzzled by her choice of words. It was as if she wanted him to fight against her… _under the condition it was his own power._

A sudden crash interrupted his thoughts.

It was Moralove’s pet… _Squid as the Pest had called it,_ breaking in through the sole window _._ Usually, he despised the thing, but right now it was his only source of salvation. He wasn’t sure if he could get its attention nor if it would even heed his plea. But, he had to try.

“S-Squid.” Finding he could use his voice, gave him a little more confidence. “Squid the r-ring!!!”

Sharp claws kneaded into his belly as the Dragon’s attention momentarily drifted to their sudden visitor. It wasn’t until Moralove’s pet started creeping towards the ring, that her initial disinterest grew focused and the kneading stopped.

Unwilling to part from her spot, her tail tried to sweep Squid away, succeeding once, twice. But, Squid was tenacious and refused to be dissuaded in its given mission – Jyggalag was, for once, thankful for that aspect.

A low threatening rumble started in the back of her throat as her tail swatted Squid again, this time stunning Moramour’s pet. Jyggalag realized he would have to help or risk being trapped indefinitely.

With the Dragon distracted, so too was her control over him. Jyggalag saw his opportunity and went for it.

He sat up the best he could, drawing his knees in tight and hugging her close to his chest.

Rowi startled, and her ire turned on him. She took a breath, but Jyggalag wasn’t about to be paralyzed again. He smashed lips against hers, but she was only encouraged by his sudden aggressive behavior, returning the kiss with a lick and a few bites as he used his meager magic to move the ring closer.

A small scrape sounded over his rapidly beating heart, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Her eye opened on it and fur-tipped ear twitched in the metal band’s direction. She rolled her hips, adding a slight bounce at the end to fully destroy his concentration.

She succeeded, and the ring stopped moving.

But, Jyggalag refused to let it end like that.

He fell atop her, pinning the overly thrilled Dragon with his weight. Arms wrapped tight around his neck in response and her legs twined around his hips to urge him deeper. Her tail curled loosely over his back as she made a soft, guttural cooing noise.

Fortunately, with her reverie, the ring was swiftly forgotten. Jyggalag hoped that Squid had recovered enough to retrieve it while he kept her occupied.

The Dragon writhed in a series of pushes and pulls, wanting to remain underneath him, yet not satisfied remaining completely obedient. Eventually, she grew tired of pretending and kicked Jyggalag off to pin him herself.

“Ooof.” He landed roughly, but she didn’t seem to care as she crawled back over him.

“My Ahmul…”

Uncomfortable with her licking a stripe up the side of his face, he attempted to push her away. He wasn’t very successful. “What…?”

“Husband!” she eagerly translated for him, teeth biting around an exposed nipple shortly after.

Of all the things he had thought, her response had never crossed his mind. “What?” he asked again… _just to make sure._

“You’re my motmahus Qahnaarin. I had been unsure of your desire of me when you first subjugated my soul, but…” There were another one of those strange coos as her gaze softened. “You made it sooo clear last time we played, my brit Kulaan.”

 _Oh… shit… That certainly explained more than a few things._ Dragons craved power, and would often challenge each other to determine potential mates. Apparently, when he had transformed the Pest into one of his Knights, the Dragon had considered that as being conquered.

There came a discrete whistle by his left ear.

Jyggalag shifted his gaze, trying to not draw the Dragon’s attention as she lavished his body with further scratches and bites. It was Squid, having returned from retrieving the discarded ring.

 _Good job!_ Jyggalag silently thanked the small thing as he held out a hand to accept the silver band.

His hand closed around it just as she breathed a bout of flame against his shoulder. The thu’um stung for a few seconds as the magic faded, but it didn’t seem to do much besides leaving a rune torched into his skin.

It was time to initiate the second part of his plan.

“Squid!” He was pleased that Moralove’s pet didn’t need any explanation, it seemed to know what he was expecting of it as it launched at Rowi’s head and temporarily disabled her.

Rising instinctively with the threat, she struggled to remove the creature tangled around her head.

Jyggalag rose quickly with the ring in hand and grabbed her flailing wrist tight to slip the silver band over a finger.

There was a hiss and a fleeting dispersal of magic as the Dragon disappeared and Rowi collapsed into his arms. He stood there for only a few seconds before carrying her carefully from the storage room.

* * *

The first thing Rowan saw when she woke was Squid’s large eye peering down at her as it made the occasional quiet whine. It gave a happy chirp the moment it realized she was awake.

_How long had she been out…?_

Rowan sat up slowly, finding that she was wearing a tunic that had been quickly stitched smaller. The blanket slid to her waist.

“My room?” It certainly looked like her room anyway. She couldn’t remember how she got there, nor were her memories from the last few hours the most reliable.

“Awake? Good. I brought you some tea…” It was Jyggalag, looking somewhat worse-for-wear. His shirt was in tatters, and he had wrapped a towel around his waist to cover his front. Several healing scratches marked his torso and one slashed over his right cheek. “How are you?”

Rowan was surprised over the genuine concern in his voice. It didn’t help that her eye caught the Dovah rune, Rah, burned into his shoulder.

The Daedra seemed to notice her apparent agitation. “Don’t worry about… _that_. It was due to my error. My ‘lesson’ went awry.”

Her mood suddenly turned bitter. _Lesson…_

“Speaking of… FUCK YOU!” She threw the nearest thing she could: her pillow.

It soared through the air, before whizzing close to where Jyggalag’s head had been seconds earlier – he had dodged the fluffy projectile at the last second, much to Rowan’s annoyance. It landed against a glass case with a crash, drawing both their attentions momentarily to the wreckage. No doubt Rowan would have to get that replaced later, and it only added to her anger.

“You’re no better than Sanguine!”

With a sigh, Jyggalag set the tray he had been carrying at the foot of her bed and sat down beside her. “Believe me or not. It was Dyus’ idea…”

_He was right. She did find it hard to believe… but, looking at how dejected he was… she might as well hear him out._

“I had planned a spanking… or something.” He sighed again. “But, nothing seemed to match how… _annoyed_ I was. In my weakness, I gave in. Looking back now… I just don’t know what he was planning… he knew and still…”

“All for a doorway?” Rowan couldn’t help sounding more than a little bitter.

“Rowi…” Jyggalag’s head sunk to his hands. “When I couldn’t just rebuild it immediately after, I was painfully reminded me of how weak I’ve become. Of how… dependant I am of Amour-a now. It’s sickening…”

Her heart softened slightly. Jyggalag’s mood was something she could relate to. Feeling more generous with her affections, she hugged him. “I… ummm… guess I can relate to that… And, for what it’s worth, I’m… sorry.”

The Daedra was momentarily stunned, and she was beginning to regret her actions. “I’m sorry too…” He sounded… truthful, and more surprisingly, his face reflected as such.

“Ho…?” She teased, leaning in closer. “No poker face this time?”

He huffed, looking almost adorable. “This won’t be the last time you see me around here…”

“You plan on building another gateway in my house?”

“Not in your house…”

_Great… There was yet a surprise she had to look forward to…_

As she grew briefly distracted, his hands had taken the liberty to cup her bare bottom. “Rowi…” His voice was soft, and it drew a slight blush to her cheeks.

She blamed it on the residual effects of the cupcake Jyggalag had tricked her into eating earlier.

Rowan stroked the side of his face, her hand lingering over the marks she had left on his cheek. He leaned into her touch and kissed her lightly over her open palm. His lips continued, to trail up her wrist and eventually meet with her own as he pulled her into a tight embrace. The kiss deepened to something more, to two people needing the physical touch of the other rather than just craving it.

With a little reluctance, Rowan separated. _The rose-colored feeling was fake anyway…_ “You were going to give me the cure, right?”

Jyggalag tilted his head, confused with her words as he pulled out of his own haze. “I already gave it to you.”

_That couldn’t be right… Then why was she…?_

“W…When…?” she asked hesitantly, the possible cure starting to occur to her. “Your… seed?!”

“Mora’s goo,” corrected Jyggalag.

“Eh?” _It made sense… kind of. It would mean Mora would be immune if Rowan had decided to share…_

“It was Mora’s goo… the cure.” He nuzzled into her hair, somewhat reading her thoughts. “Like I could take advantage of you in that state. Regardless of how… determined you had been.”

“I had thought…”

“Never think about it… I’m not ‘that type’ of Daedra.” His sudden grin was infectious, and she felt her face heat up.

_Cute…_

She nestled her head against his shoulder, her eyes falling on the dovah rune. _Somehow, seeing it made her satisfied in a way she hadn’t been before…_

“But… if you were still wanting my seed... I’m sure I can still oblige you.” His voice tickled her ear.

Embarrassed the Daedra could say such a thing, she jumped back. He didn’t seem offended.

“Haaaa… But Mora-amour will probably come back soon… And, knowing him, he’ll pout so hard if he catches us starting without him…”

Caught between feeling relieved and disappointed, Rowan could only agree. “True.”

“By the way… can I borrow some clothes? It’s more than a little breezy down below.”

Her eyes trailed down and she caught sight of the towel wrapped around his hips… again. “Sure… sorry…” It was hard to take her eyes away. “I think I should have something that’d suit you.

****

Rowan couldn’t help the small giggle she hid behind her hands.

Apparently, Squid was equally amused by Jyggalag’s situation as she was, snickering from her shoulder.

“You’re kidding me, right?” He placed two fingers along his temple, appearing absolutely exhausted with the black and white dress Rowan had found at the bottom of a trunk.

“Well, it’s the only clothing I have that’s black and white.” She wouldn’t be surprised if there was some sort of repercussion planned for her little prank. “It fits you so well, _my Prince._ ”

He just sighed and wandered to some other part of the Hall, likely to wait for Mora to return.

****

It wasn’t until later did Jyggalag’s revenge come to pass, having hidden all of Rowan’s normal clothing and leaving only an oversized dress out. When she had complained, the Daedra’s solution was simply to turn her back into a man.

“Bastard!!! I hope you’re happy! Where are my clothes?!” Rowan hollered, having spent the rest of the evening trying to find where Jyggalag had stashed them during his sudden need to clean.

As usual, the Daedra ignored him, instead continuing to sweep the floor.

“Stop ignoring me!!”

“I missed something… didn’t I?” Mora’s voice interrupted Rowan’s rampage, and he became far more self-conscious about the dress he was wearing.

Jyggalag didn’t share the same sudden reservation that had taken Rowan. “Mora-amour!! Tell me I’m the prettiest of them all!”

“Wha- Hey!”

With a peculiar seriousness in his eyes, Jyggalag ignored Rowan’s brief outburst. “He thinks he’s prettier than me in a dress!”

“It’s true!” Rowan said without thinking. “Well, _was_ true… But, _nobody_ can beat Mora in a dress.”

His exclamation drew Jyggalag’s sudden interest. “We’ll need to verify that!”

It was Mora’s turn to be hesitant.

****

In Rowan’s many adventures, he wasn’t always rewarded with gold. Sometimes weapons, armor, clothing… The wedding dress he had always intended to return, but between his tendency to horde things and sheer forgetfulness of where it had come from, it remained in the back of his wardrobe until now.

A look was exchanged between Jyggalag and Rowan, and they knew they had found the dress they wanted Mora to try on.

There was a brief struggle – mainly to get Mora out of the comfortably big robe he always wore – as Jyggalag and Rowan finally worked together on a similar goal.

When they were done, a goddess stood in their midst.

The pearly white fabric hugged in all the right spots, accentuating Mora’s thin waist and shoulders. He hugged himself, feeling a little exposed without his robe. “Isn’t this a wedding dress?”

It was, yet Jyggalag and Rowan were too stunned to say anything.

Mora’s face flushed under all the attention. “St-Stop looking!!!”

****

The strange event put behind him, Rowan didn’t think much of that particular morning a month later. He yawned loudly, stretching as he did so, then scratched his stomach as he swung he feet over the edge of the bed. Slipping on a tunic for the day, Rowan was greeted by a frantic Squid who was pointing and chirping quite insistently.

“What is it?” he asked the creature groggily, still far too tired to deal with much more than grabbing breakfast.

Squid had to all but drag him to the nearest window to show him-

His eyes shot wide. The giant building hadn’t been there the night before. It’s appearance tall and grand. A castle maybe, but the style of it was foreign. It instantly reminded him of Jyggalag and he turned around pretending he never saw it.

_So that’s what Jyggalag had meant._

Rowan wasn’t sure if this solution was any better. He could only hope that the Daedra had been smart enough to ward it invisible to anyone who happened to wander by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahmul: husband  
> Motmahus Qahnaarin: tricky Vanquisher  
> Brit Kulaan: Beautiful Prince


	14. Among Enemies [Mature]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thalmor, Dragons, chaos, Daedra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: gender swapping, gender transformation, angst, brief self-harm

It had been one week. One peaceful week of no odd interruptions he thought would be inevitable… considering the towering monstrosity of a castle that had popped up next door. 

He ignored the thing as much as possible, closing windows he had absentmindedly opened earlier that were facing it.

“Master Felborne.”

Rowan’s heart jumped up to his throat. He turned, finding Dyus standing close by. 

Clutching his chest, he addressed the near-albino. “Dyus, you scared me!”

“I apologize. It was not my intention to startle you.” Dyus bowed. “But, we need to talk…”

“About your Master?”

“No. About your freedom.”

Rowan raised a brow. It was definitely the first time he heard about his freedom being under threat.

“From my current data, many paths are open. In many of them, you are not free… in others, far worse…”

“That’s… ominous…”

“Not to fret. There is a way out. You must go see what lies in Skyrim’s embassy.”

He sighed. He wasn’t exactly invited the last time he visited the embassy. “Thalmors… again. And, you won’t just tell me…”

“Of course not! You must go.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair. Even if he wanted to go back, he likely couldn’t just waltz in the front door. “They know my face…” And, he couldn’t exactly ask Mora for help. His lover had to pardon himself from their recent rendezvous. Apparently, Daedric Princes had to work just as hard as mortals sometimes.

Dyus nodded. “Indeed. There is, however, one easy workaround.”

His brows furrowed. “Oh yeah…?” He followed Dyus’ gaze to the window and to the humongous mansion that still lay beyond the shutters. The thought struck him near immediate,  _ ‘Rowi’... _

****

The large, red archway marked the start of the stairs to Jyggalag’s home.

_ I can’t believe I’m here on my own… _ Each step took him closer, but he wasn’t sure if he was willing to go through with Dyus’ plan. Rowan stopped at the entrance.

“It’s only a regular door,” assured Dyus.

Rowan still couldn’t help being nervous. The last one he entered that looked similar, landed him in the Daedra’s personal realm. Eventually, he convinced himself to slide the door open and step through.  _ He wouldn’t be making progress just standing on the front step. _

The mansion’s main hall was big but fairly empty. Only numerous doors lined its falls; a few more along the overhanging second floor. “The gateway is over there…” Dyus pointed to a familiar door at the hall’s far end. He didn’t have to be a mage to feel the faint trace of magic that indicated a portal just barely concealed behind it. “But, we’re going to the right. Master is currently feeding his fish.” Dyus led him to the second door on his right, a spot above it marked with a white-painted square similar to the one on his left.

They stepped through and Rowan was in awe at the sight. A soft trickle of a slow-moving waterfall ran along the...  _ room’s _ far wall, that shouldn’t have been possible. Afternoon sunlight poured through the large branching oaks, despite it only being morning. A crystalline stone protruded from the center of the pond, but despite its magical aura, Rowan felt no need to be wary. And, kneeling along the pool’s edge was Jyggalag; an unfamiliar expression of serenity set on his angular features.  _ It was a nice look for him... _

A single misstep was all it took to ruin the moment. 

The Daedra whirled, a look of murder on his face as he hurled a blade at Rowan. It tip embedded into the wall the blade a scarce hair’s-breadth from the Nord’s right cheek.

Rowan’s heart skipped a beat and his legs gave out, but he was near-certain it hadn’t been out of fright. A phantom limb briefly wagged out behind him. “Hello… neighbor…” he tried once speech became available again.

Something relaxed in Jyggalag’s threatening features as he turned away. “I’m not in the mood. Go away.”

“Master…” Dyus knelt and bowed deeply. “Please, Master. We have some important information that we must share with you.”

The Daedra made a motion barely visible over his shoulder, indicating Dyus should continue.

Dyus obliged, being almost equally cryptic in his explanation to Jyggalag as he had been to Rowan.

The Daedra tilted his head as he took in Dyus’ explanation, but beyond that, it was difficult to tell what he was thinking. “I see…” He finally glanced back at Rowan and Dyus - his attention more so on Rowan. “I have enough wards in place to deter even the most persistent mortal. You could live here… Of course, as Rowi that is…”

Rowan could only decline that offer. And, quickly. He couldn’t see himself living out who knows how long trapped in Jyggalag’s mansion. “No… Thanks…”

The Daedra closed his eyes briefly in thought, and then stood up - some decision made. “No choice then… We’re going.”

“Huh? We?!”

Adjusting Sanguine’s ring on his finger, Jyggalag stated calmly, “Could you deal with a group of enemies as Rowi?”

_ As Rowi…? _ Rowan’s hesitation spoke for him.

“Then, it’s settled. Come here.”

Very reluctantly, Rowan stepped forward.

Irritated at his reluctance, the Daedra grabbed the front of his tunic and yanked him forward the rest of the way. “Don’t move,” growled Jyggalag, the Daedra’s face suddenly way too close for any semblance of comfort.

A twist of a wrist and Rowan felt the thorned ring press not-to-gently into his flesh. He winced, a hiss escaping his lips. Seconds later, the Daedra looked at least a head taller; though Rowan knew that it was only because he-  _ she _ had shrunk.

“Much better.” The Daedra’s expression immediately softened - a look reserved for her female half only. Jyggalag tugged her in tighter to his body. To wrap her completely in the long sleeves of his black robe and in his… scent.

Her thoughts paused and she glanced up, noticing that the dovah rune had disappeared, its faint smell of ash vanished. With something twisting uncomfortably inside her, she reached out and touched the spot where it had been. “The mark is gone…” Rowan more half-mumbled to herself. The realization made it clear why she was feeling uncomfortable. Her dragon-half was upset at the loss.

Sensing her discomfort, Jyggalag shifted guiltily. “It is.”

“Jyggalag?”

His gaze turned distant, focusing on some far off point instead of her. “It disappeared sometime last week… when I made this place…”

She frowned.  _ Speaking of ‘this place’... _

“By-the-by, if your intention was to create something discrete, you missed the mark by a fair bit,” she teased, pulling his attention back. “Though I can’t say it was to compensate for something else…”

* * *

Jyggalag stared; her implication slowly seeping in as she raised her hands about eight inches apart. “You… I- I wanted to make something small,” he defended, his fluster not yet touching his face. “I shouldn’t have had that much power…” He sighed.  _ If he had known, he would have used the fleeting extra magic for his realm. _

He was about to say something else, but a polite cough interrupted him.

“Master. Everything is ready. And, here.” Dyus offered a page to him. “I’ve prepared instructions for the best case.”

“Good.”

He watched as Rowi was led away to be more appropriately dressed.

* * *

“Jyggalag!” Rowan pulled at the fabric of the ornate dress. It bothered her quite a bit how well it fit; not to mention it was a dress in the first place. “What is with the dress?!”

The Daedra looked up from the paper Dyus had given him, a hand came up to tap his chin contemplatively as a small smile slid unconsciously onto his face. He seemingly ignored her complaint. “We need to do something about your hair, and eyepatch.”

“Fuck you! Don’t you have any normal clothes lying around? Armor?”

“No,” smirked Jyggalag, giving away his lie.

_ Damn it… _ Rowan sighed. Part of her still wanted to smack that stupid grin off his face - as small as it was.  _ I’m afraid for what’s next… _

“Don’t worry, Mistress,” Dyus assured her quietly, coaxing her back to brush her hair. To style it in such a way to cover the decorated eyepatch she was given. “Master is just too shy…”

She glanced at the Daedra still too engrossed in whatever he was reading to have heard.  _ Jyggalag… Shy?  _  Rowan severely doubted it.

With a sigh, she accepted the mirror Dyus offered. She looked good, for the most part unrecognizable. “I’m not used to dressing so fancy.” It was true, the expensive floor-length dress, the immedicable fur draped around her shoulders, the jewels…  _ Why had so much of this been previously prepared? _

“Ready!” 

Rowan glanced over to where Jyggalag was standing, dressed similarly well and with a thick coat to contend with the chill that would worsen at the embassy.  _ He… he looked good. Not that Rowan would admit that out loud. _ “Can we go now?” Rowan said instead.

****

As Rowan had feared, they were stopped at the entrance.

The Thalmor guarding the gate looked frigid in the winter air, and it wasn’t hard to guess that it was adding to the elf’s overall sour mood. “Who are you?”

“Annoyed,” answered Jyggalag with no hesitation.

A puff of icy air hung between them briefly.

The elf seemed inclined to agree, his arms coming up casually to rub some warmth into his arms. “Blasted cold. Can’t understand why anyone chooses to live here.” It was then that he finally noticed Rowan who had moved in beside the Daedra, far more unaffected by the chilly air than either of them. “Who’s the Nord?”

Jyggalag only gave Rowan a cursory glance, his gaze piercing as he matched the Thalmor’s attitude with his own. “My… servant.”

“Dressed like that?” The Thalmor seemed skeptical.

“Do you think she is here to do the dishes?”

The elf caught his hidden meaning and turned an interested eye over Rowan. She couldn’t help flushing with the sudden attention, and it only seemed to further their lie. “I don’t see how she should be a problem. Go on in.”

****

“When I asked for your help getting in here unnoticed, that wasn’t an invitation to come along,” she hissed under her breath. Rowan’s slender arm linked with Jyggalag’s as they passed a small crowd. As much as she disliked the idea of the Daedra coming in with her, it would be worse to not keep up the guise Jyggalag had apparently decided on. “I thought you were coming only as backup. Why am I your… escort?”

“Would you rather I say you were my wife? How about that I am your…  _ Ahmul? _ ”

She couldn’t help turning red at his words. “That… that would be even worse…”  _ Not to mention the dovah-zul would be a dangerous giveaway. _

“Yet, closer to the truth.”

Rowan was certain her whole face was beet red now, and she had trouble forming a tangible retort.

With her continued silence, Jyggalag’s dark eyes traveled back to the party. “A Nord here on their own would be suspicious regardless of your gender. I’m amazed you didn’t raise suspicion the first time you tried this.”

“It was easier then. They weren’t  _ trying _ to find the Dragonborn.”

“Now they are.” Jyggalag sneered at one slightly tipsy individual who tried to approach them. The Altmer quickly backed off. “Tell me again why we are here? If your goal was to avoid getting caught, jumping into the lion’s den is hardly the place to start.”

“It was Dyus’ suggestion to find out what they know. I don’t want to leave Skyrim if I can help it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pondering where she should go first to find the best gossip.

“I have offered-“

“No. Nope. Not going to happen. No way am I moving in with you.” Rowan was thankful for the dim lighting to hide the blush on her face. The longer she gave thought to Jyggalag’s offer the harder it became to turn down each time.

The Daedra frowned, but it seemed more like a sulk. “The offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Yeah…” Rowan heads off towards the buffet table. Maybe she could find some gossip there,  _ worst case she’d at least get something to eat. _

****

Three hours. Three  _ Oblivion forsaken  _ hours she stood there, chasing off the occasional passerby before Jyggalag came up and did it for her.  _ He was supposed to be keeping his ears open on the other side of the party... _

From the sour look on his face, it seemed that he was having similar luck to her.  _ Absolutely none.  _ Not a whisper of something promising. For all she knew, they were chasing nothing. 

_ Maybe Dyus had been wrong… _

“Ladies, Gentlemen. It’s time for what you’ve all been waiting for. The courtyard if you please.” announced a stern-faced Altmer, already dressed for the cold of outside.

There was a few murmured complaints, but the party slowly gathered their cloaks and furs to join the procession heading outside.

****

The small, brown dragon chained in the courtyard had been unexpected. It was thrashing against its bindings, pissed that it had been reduced to a muzzled prisoner.

Rowan froze when its black gaze met his, recognition in its eyes. But, then the moment passed; the beast knowing they shared a common enemy. It continued its struggles as if nothing had happened.

“I don’t like this.” It was Jyggalag, having returned to her side.

Rowan couldn’t place it, but something had her hair standing on end. “You don’t? How do you think I feel?” 

Jyggalag had no further comment to make. His gaze focused instead on the rigid Thalmor that had decided to finally join them, some kind of contraption wheeled up with him.

The dragon’s attention was similarly drawn to the device, to its mechanical whirring and clicking. It tugged fiercely at its bindings, trying far more desperately to put some distance between itself and the thing that had been brought closer.

The crowd simply gave a muted applause at the display.

“I don’t feel so good…” Rowan’s hand came up to grip his sleeve, her other to cover her mouth as she bent over. Something about the machine was affecting her similarly.

“What? Now!?” Jyggalag hissed, but he was more focused on the few eyes that had turned to them.

“You… think I’d do this on purpose?!”

The Daedra didn’t say anything more, his mouth snapping shut as even the leader’s attention had been drawn with the stirring of the crowd.

The Thalmor leader’s hand shifted towards the sword at his waist, though he remained standing near the sickening contraption. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing,” Jyggalag quickly defended. “I fear my companion may have eaten something that did not agree with her.”

“If that is all… May we continue, or do I need to fetch someone?”

“I think it shall pass…” The Daedra levied a look at her that she couldn’t quite place.

She nodded quickly, afraid any hesitation would make her appear more suspicious.

“Very well.” The Thalmor’s attention turned back to Jyggalag. “See to it that your companion does not interrupt us again.”

Jyggalag grabbed Rowan’s shoulder to pull her closer, an action to any other would be a warning of her behavior. To Rowan, it was surprisingly gentle, a reminder that the Daedra was there in the den of vipers with her. And, more importantly, that he was on her side.

The crowd settled with hushed curiosity. A mage, indicated such by the stylings of their robes, stepped forward carrying a black soul gem. It was shown to the crowd, then placed within the contraption.

“It was thought before, impossible to harness the power of these savage beasts… That only the one the uncivilized Nords call Dragonborn could wield such power...” The Thalmor took the time to pause, for the dragon to offer a muted roar and emphasize its power. “But, no more.” He flipped a lever on the device, its whirring continued as small bolts of lightning and magic skimmed over its bronze surface.

It was like a punch to the gut, the air suddenly stolen from her lungs.

_ Wrong. Wrong. It felt so wrong. _

The black soul gem sparked, its dark crystal burning temporarily white. The hummed rose until a piercing shriek.

Then stopped.

The Thalmor flipped the switch, and the lightning ceased.

The mage crept forward, hands shaking as the steaming soul gem was taken out from bronze holdings.

Nodding his approval, the Thalmor continued whatever speech he had. “With a few modifications, we have adapted soul gems to be able to successfully contain a dragon’s soul, without the… certain side effects.”

A polite chuckle rose from the crowd - not that Rowan was able to detect what was particularly amusing about the Thalmor’s words. As far as she had known, there was no soul gem that could hold a dragon’s soul, else why was there such importance on the Dragonborn’s return? 

The power contained in even one soul…  _ For the Thalmor to have such an edge. _

“And for our volunteer…” 

Again another polite chuckle from the crowd.

The dragon strained against its bindings; against the muzzle that sealed its Thu’ums as the mage approached.  _ It was no fool about what was coming. _

The mage cast her spell, creating a purple glow around the captive creature. Rowan felt her own soul shiver in response. The Dragon recoiled, repulsed by the spell that had been cast on it, though it was already starting to shake the soul trap spell. 

Rowan found herself hoping it would foil whatever the Thalmor had planned.

It didn’t.

A blade was raised high above the Dragon’s and was staked through its impressive head. It twitched once, twice, then grew still.

The collective breath the crowd held was let out, but it was a premature relief. The soul curled in white wisps around its deceased body, struggling against the spell trying to draw it towards the black soul gem. The soul writhed in torment, but in its thrashing, it found an escape.

Rowan.

Carried on wings of residual magic it clawed its way towards her, scattering the guests into a panicked frenzy. Only two remained unfazed. The mage and the congregation's leader. Eyes narrowed in her direction; one pair of interest and the other of disdain. The Dragon soul slammed into her, fighting to find sanctuary. Her earring rattled then suddenly flipped, her own inner beast unwilling to back down. 

Rowan could feel her pupil narrow to slit, her nails sharpening to claws. So far she had managed to keep her horns hidden, but with the soul not yet settled inside her, she was going to transform - even if she had control over her other form. Her ears switched next, their rounded tips elongating to furred points.

She pushed away from Jyggalag, his cover at least not blown yet.

“Grab the Nord!”

Doing the only thing she could think of, she ran dodging and weaving around both eager and hesitant hands.

“Don’t let the Dragonborn escape!”

More collected Thalmor agents stormed the courtyard, as the non-combative guests milled past the uniformed officers. 

One of the Thalmor moved to block her path as she tried to sneak through, but Jyggalag had rushed forward and knocked him out. His fist dripping fresh blood as it pulled back from the elf’s broken nose.

“Go!” he shouted, giving her a shove as the crowd turned on him as well. Luckily, he at least had been allowed to keep his sword, though as cramped as they were with all the swarming bodies, he would have a hard time drawing his sword.

The Leader shouted his frustrations and barked an order to the mage beside him.

The mage chanted something, and Rowan felt the Dragon soul being tugged from her. It wasn’t going silently. The soul twisted and hung on. It tore into her insides as the spell was drawing it from her. But, it was already part of her.

She screamed.

* * *

“Get off me! Get-“

Rowi’s scream would haunt him for eternity, and for a moment, he stopped moving only to renew his struggles harder than before.

“Hold him,” barked the Thalmor leader “He’s still in its thrall…”

_ That’s vampires, you idiots! _

Jyggalag wrenched an arm free and grabbed the katana set on his waist. The Thalmor holding his other arm was the first to fall to his blade.

He turned on the next, and then the Mer beside that one. His disguise grew drenched with their crimson blood. “Rowi!”

Her eye swirled to his, but it was cloudy, unseeing.  _ He had to move faster. _

The Thalmors’ screams and reverberated over Rowi’s own pained howls, but they weren’t loud enough to drown the sound from his ears.  _ He doubted anything could be louder than that… _

Jyggalag focus went for the leader.  _ Kill him to scatter the pack! End this once and for all. _

The next few seconds dragged on to infinity.

The lead Altmer saw Jyggalag move for him, saw the Daedra swing the blade back to slash him in half. He grabbed the poor misguided mage beside him, and Jyggalag’s katana claimed that life instead. The black soul gem tumbled from her now lifeless fingers to shatter against the snow-laden cobblestone, and everything went eerily silent. The soul-piercing scream cut abrupt.

_ No. _

He turned, dread filling him… consuming him. “R…Rowi…?”

Her horns had vanished, as had her tail and claws. She collapsed, her vibrant blue eye faded dull.

_ No. _

“Unfortunate,” was all the Altmer had to say as if he disappointed someone had merely spilled their wine on an expensive rug.

But, Jyggalag was far too gone to have heard it over the crashing din of his own heartbeat.

_ Rowi… Rowi was…  _

Before he knew it, the primal wail had breached his throat, his thoughts blinded by grief and despair.

_ Unforgivable. SimPly… UNFoRGiVabLE! _

“Daedra! It’s a Daedra!”

Panic rose in abundance around him as his form shifted, muscles stretching and growing, jagged slivers of metal and crystal tearing through his grey skin. His fangs grew to the length of short swords as his body grew with them – his size only limited by the size of the courtyard. His ears lay pinned against his head as his lips drew into a snarl along his elongated snout.

“A Daedric Prince…” mumbled another in awe.

Shouts rose, but it was no longer fear or respect he craved from those beneath him. The Daedric Prince wanted revenge on those that had shattered the soul of his…  _ mate. _ He wished for their screams, their pain, their death.

He moved quickly on all fours, his nine tails tearing those that dared get too close to ribbons. His teeth tore into one fleeing, and his claws punctured another frail body underfoot. No mage would ever be able to puncture his armor with magic, no blade able to touch his hide.

_ He had been worshiped for a reason. _

When the noise had died down to nothing but a dying gurgle, the Daedric Prince turned back to his mate.

She hadn’t moved, her eye continuing to stare at nothing…  _ Yet, a part of him had hoped. _ He shifted back, his lesser form returning with a muted whine.

Jyggalag was naked; his transformation having destroyed the mortal-made fabric he had once wore. And, as he gave thought to it, rich black-and-white cloth formed about him.

He watched with a horrified bewilderment. _It shouldn’t have been possible; he was cut off from…_ _No…_

Oblivion was once again tied to him - though his connection was far thinner than what it had been before. With careful nurturing, he could make it stronger.

‘ _ And, here I’ve prepared instructions for the best case…’ _

_ Was this all to your plan, Dyus? _

Jyggalag thought he would have been thrilled to have his power back, but at the cost it had come… The pain he had to endure to trigger the transformation…  _ It only left him empty. _

He fell to his knees, for once uncertain where everything had been so clear, so predestined. “Not like this…”

When his eyes swept back over Rowi…  _ Rowan,  _ all he could feel was choking guilt. Jyggalag used Sanguine’s ring and turned her back: Rowan’s form just as lifeless as Rowi’s had been. It was disturbing watching the body breath, but that was it… just a body; kept alive by the Nord’s gifted immortality. The soul had been snatched and broken into pieces. To lie as fragmented as the black soul gem that had held it. He slid Rowan’s eye closed, no longer wishing to see its empty stare.

_ What good was his magic now? _

“I didn’t want this…” Jyggalag turned his head to the heavens, “I diDN’t wAnt tHiS!” hoping, that somehow his confession could fix everything as the power he had once been so proud of could do...  _ nothing. _

His hands balled into fists and he pounded the stone until they bled silver. When they had healed, he started again, and again. Trying desperately to overwhelm the pain in his chest with another. The grey stone cracked and splintered under his blows, to eventually turn to wet, powdered dust between his fingers.

It took some time - far longer than he was proud of - to get his emotions back under control. Jyggalag had to inform Moramour.  _ He… He would want to know what became of his champion. _

****

“Hermaeus Mora…”

Apocrypha shifted as he drew the attention of its Master. The disembodied eyes of his love fixated on him, as he stepped out onto the black metal lattice that composed the ground of his Amour-a’s realm. Tendrils reached out to greet him.

“Why so formal, Jyggy? I thought we had grown pas-”

The corner of Jyggalag’s lip twitched as he couldn’t maintain eye contact. Moramour had caught sight of the limp Nord in his arms, and of the shattered soul gem gathered in a crystalline bowl on Rowan’s lap.

“Ro… Rowan?” his Amour-a asked tentatively. A few tendrils tugged the Nord from Jyggalag’s resistant arms. Moramour cradled the empty vessel in his tendrils, poking and prodding for some reaction that wouldn’t come. 

All Jyggalag was left was the bowl. It felt heavier than it should have been. He couldn’t stop himself from staring down at it, his hands shaking. He felt so useless. 

“Jygg… What happened? Why… Why is Rowan like this?” 

The humid air shifted as an uncomfortable chill crept in. 

“Why do you have your power back? I… I had sealed your link.”

His fingers tightened around the crystal bowl, its black contents glaring back at him accusingly. It didn’t even matter that his Amour-a just admitted to not having completely severed his bond to Oblivion… That he had been shown a greater mercy than he had first thought. “I couldn’t stop it… They wanted the soul… And… And… I couldn’t...” His voice had dropped to a barely controlled whisper.

Several eyes swiveled back to him, and to the bowl he held. Imploring tendrils urged him to give up the shattered soul gem. “Is this all of them?”

Jyggalag nodded slowly.

The next few moments stretched into agony as Moramour contemplated the gem fragments. “I… can fix… this…” Moramour finally said, his slow drawl thundering to Jyggalag’s ears after all the earlier silence.

He wouldn’t allow himself to be relieved. The darkening sky of his Amour-a’s realm indicated Rowan’s revival wouldn’t come without a heavy cost. “What do you need?” The question had passed Jyggalag’s lips before his thoughts had finished.

Only a few eyes turned to Jyggalag, Moramour’s main interest remaining on the Nord he held. “Only some… minor assistance… Will you help… me?”

“Of course.”

“Good… Good. I need you to sever my bond to Oblivion completely.”

_ What…!? _

“I can use it to stitch the pieces back together. And... if you take my… mantle. I doubt the... others can complain of your… return…”

“No.”  _ For his Amour-a to truly cut ties with Oblivion… For him take Moramour’s place instead... _ The thought twisted his insides. “Use mine. Use what remains of my bond. I’ve managed without it up until now. I can continue to do so.”

Mora was silent, then finally decided to say something. “Are you sure?”

Jyggalag contemplated his hand, feeling the power crackle beneath his skin. He was going to miss the feeling, but he was sure he could get used to living without it… again. “Yes.”

****

Minutes stretched to hours, and Rowan still was unconscious. Jyggalag stared at his hands, feeling the continual drain of his magic as it fueled the invisible chains tying Rowan’s soul back together.

“Are you alright, Jygg?”

“Of course.” Clenching his fist he wondered how much longer it would take. 

“I can go slower if it hurts…”

_ Slower? _ Jyggalag shook his head. At most it felt like a small cut at his core, he could bear the pain. If anything he wanted Moramour to go faster.

Jyggalag wasn’t worried. There was no way he could be. Moralove knew what he was doing. This would work. 

_ It had to… _

****

Rowan couldn’t have roused any slower. Each moment the Nord remained unmoving, the worse it became. The harder it was to bare the silence.

A groan, and his head was snapping back to Rowan’s face. Slowly the Nord’s eyes opened. He sat up but immediately fell back, clutching his head. “Owwwwwww… What happen-?”

Something took hold of Jyggalag then, and he grabbed the Nord to hold him tight. “Thank Anu! You’re back to us!” Without thinking, his lips found Rowan’s.

They separated and sense finally returned to Jyggalag as he caught sight of Rowan’s red and stunned face. 

With an open palm, Jyggalag slapped Rowan and rose to his feet. In quick steps, he rounded the corner, leaving Rowan with the parting words of, “My home. Tomorrow.”

****

“Welcome back, Master. I see you made your decision.”

Jyggalag’s fists curled around his servant’s robes and he lifted the small man into the air. “Dyus… you…”

Dyus’ expression never wavered. “Yes, Master?”

He snarled and dropped Dyus.

The man tottered slightly but regained his balance.

“Was that the only path that…  _ the Pest _ could have survived?”

“If you mean while Master Felborne retained free will, then yes.” Dyus cocked his head to the side. “Was I in error? Would you have preferred an alternative outcome?”

Jyggalag sighed. “No.” He had already made his choice. There was no going back on it. “Just… prepare for his visit tomorrow.”

“As you wish, Master.”


	15. Beauty and the Beasts [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there's a beauty there is bound to be a few beasts lying in wait. Jyggalag never thought he'd be on the receiving end of that attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Jyggalag/Hermaeus Mora, Fem Dragonborn/Jyggalag, Male Dragonborn/Jyggalag, Molag Bal, Dyus, dub-con, gender transformation
> 
> This is what happens when I get a picture and we start talking, and then there are more pictures (thanks Skit XD). Sooooo... this massive piece is as much mine as hers xD.

“Ahmul… Come out and fight me,” howled the beast as it continued to stalk him through the underbrush.

 _If it was only a fight it wanted,_ thought Jyggalag from his hiding place. Any subtle movement could betray him, so he had to remain as still as possible. He was thankful that the Dragon’s sense of smell wasn’t the greatest; otherwise he’d be even worse off… _if that was even possible_.

Jyggalag could hear it shuffling beneath him, its large, striped tail crushing the foliage as it continued its relentless pursuit. It retained several of its more human features, but was in a constant flux between standing upright and walking on all fours – the beast struggling to hold onto a form that could still copulate with Jyggalag without serious injury to either party.

_How did the Rowan even lose the damned ring this time!?_

This was the final straw. If he survived this encounter, he’d confront Moramour about finding a more viable solution. The current one obviously wasn’t working out anymore.

There was a dissatisfied growl. “I know you’re out here. Dyus said you weren’t home.”

_Of course he did…_

His servant always meant for the best, but perhaps having a horny brute sent after his ass might not have been ‘for the best’ – even if he was granted substantially more power than if the Dragon was in its less aggressive female form.

“Meaaaat!” The beast’s pitch had shifted higher, near feminine, and Jyggalag knew it was trying to lure him out. It had figured out the mechanism between its gendered forms, even if the Nord had yet to show similar ability.

Not fooled, and disregarding his cramping limbs, Jyggalag stayed hidden. He just had to hold out until Moramour came for his weekly visit, which happened to be… _tomorrow;_ likely in the afternoon as he was currently busy with something sensitive.

_Maybe it would lose interest before then-_

The tree he was hiding in shook violently, but it was only the Dragon rubbing against the trunk to mark territory.

“Ahmuuuul!” it howled again, this time sounding quite dejected.

The sound pulled at whatever heartstrings Jyggalag had, but it still wasn’t enough to reveal himself.

****

The next few hours were difficult.

Without his connection to Oblivion, he found himself behaving more and more like the many mortals of Nirn. For one, he needed to eat periodically or face a pained stomach. The other, was his new physical need of sleep. Only the fear of the Dragon prowling about below kept him from falling into his period of forced unconscious.

Suddenly, the beast stopped in its tracks, its attention drawn elsewhere. A furred ear flicked and its head turned; its body joining shortly after. It looked like it was listening for something. So, Jyggalag tried listening too.

“Rowan…?” The sound was distant, likely coming from the Nord’s house.

_Shit…_

Jyggalag looked to the grey sky, seeing just the beginning streaks of pink paint across it. Moramour was early… and the beast most definitely hadn’t calmed down. If anything, it was far more agitated now.

“Rooowan?” his Amour-a called again.

Much to Jyggalag’s mixed relief the Dragon was off like a shot, charging quickly towards the source of the voice.

* * *

_His Sil Deinmaar had returned._

It didn’t take long to close the distance, but Rowan had to be careful… last time he was like this he had frightened his more delicate Ahmul. Mora would be cautious of his current appearance… _likely even run._

It took substantial effort to remember his human shape… to give up powerful hind legs and forearms… to shrink to a more suitable size for his small mate. But, there was only so much he could do, his horns now just barely poking through his dark hair while his tail continued to disobediently twitch behind him with a barely contained excitement.

Hopefully, his guise would work long enough to get close.

“Deinmaar do dii Sil,” he churred, drawing Mora’s attention.

“Rowan.” Not quite ready to run, his Ahmul stiffened reflexively. Rowan considered that progress. “Where is your ring?”

“Gone.” He had taken it off to practise, but he couldn’t remember what anymore.

Mora had tensed further, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. “Why is it gone, Rowan?” His voice had gained a slight scolding tone, and Rowan’s ears tightened slightly against his head.

“Wanted to… practise…”

There was a sigh. “So, you took it off willingly… There’s that I suppose...” His Sil Deinmaar dropped his guard for a few moments and let Rowan creep closer. “And, how is your… practise going?”

 _Uuuuugh… Not well…_ He was aware of that much at least, and his ears reflexively flicked away.

“Did you chase Jygg into the woods again?”

This time his tail drooped a little. _Did they have to talk about this?_ There were more than a few things Rowan would rather do… especially now that Mora was in arms-reach…

By the time Mora realized, it was near too late. His arms wrapped tight around his Sil Deinmaar, nails digging into the dark material of his robe.

Unprepared for Rowan’s sudden weight, they fell, Rowan pinning Mora beneath him.

* * *

“Rowan!!” Mora’s tendrils whipped out, many straining to hold back the eager Drake.

Admittedly, Rowan’s control over his larger form was growing, despite this evident break as his human features grew obscured.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of the instincts the Nord normally repressed.

A sandpaper-like tongue licked a stripe up his front as the Drake nuzzled against the Daedric Prince with his furred snout. So far, that seemed to be the extent of what Rowan wanted to do, his slowly increasing weight laying contentedly on top of him.

_If Mora let him, he’d probably stay that way until mid-afternoon._

“Come on, Rowan…” He offered a pat on the Drake’s side. “You are going to crush me if you fully transform.” _Not completely true,_ but saying so usually made Rowan hesitant on extended snuggles.

_Apparently, not this time._

“Rowan. Get. Off.”

The Drake huffed, speech becoming an apparent nuisance to his furry brain.

“Rowan!” Mora scolded, his tendrils working more readily to shift the large mass of muscle, fur, and scales.

“Leave Moramour alone!” Suddenly, there was another voice, accompanied by a loud crack against Rowan’s skull. If Rowan hadn’t been transformed as he was, the impact would have knocked him out cold.

It was Jyggalag, sweat beading over his grey skin. He was already preparing another rock.

There was more than a little excitement in Rowan’s movements as his human features started resurfacing, ready to meet Jyggalag’s challenge. “Motmahus…”

One step. Two steps.

Rowan was trying to inch closer, and it grew clear to Mora why he had been given a thorough tour of the forest through Rowan’s currently uncovered eye.

Mora had discovered the more he catered to the Nord's inert desires, the better Rowan behaved when he became like… this. _Likely, Jyggalag wasn’t exactly understanding… and Rowan was acting more aggressive towards him as a result._

The Drake crouched. An uttered, “I’ve been waiting,” the only warning Jyggalag had before he pounced.

Jyggalag turned – his kimono not the best for quick movements as he began to run back to the safety of the trees.

His intention was clear. He was trying to lure Rowan away, so Mora could find his own escape.

Unfortunately, Rowan wasn’t going to continue playing fair with the weakened Daedric Prince. “Ko.. Praan Vahdin!!!”

The moment the thu’um was uttered, Jyggalag fell like a stone. He picked himself up, with a whimper and a near sob. His form curled around itself. “Noooo! Don’t look!!! I’m ugly!!!”

It wasn’t enough to deter Rowan.

Testing the air, the Drake stopped, then licked his lips. “Virgin Kulaas…”

_Virgin…?_

It was Mora’s turn to take an interest; his own senses telling him the same thing. They told him, Jyggalag was currently a woman… and that _she_ was very much a virgin.

As Rowan continued to prowl towards his fallen prey, Mora knew he had to interfere.

His tendrils quickly formed a small cage around Jyggalag, hardening to black iron to keep Rowan out. The Drake paused, then let out a dissatisfied huff of air at being suddenly denied. His tail whipped out behind him.

“Rowan! I’m here, so leave Jyggy alone!” Mora’s declaration, while mainly to protect Jyggalag, didn’t come without its own ulterior motivation. He just didn’t understand why Jyggalag had such an adverse reaction to being female... _She was so cute…_

Rowan’s attention slid back to Mora when it became clear there was no useful opening in the cage. “Are you challenging me to take her first?” He stepped past the cage, ready to fight Mora for the prize he held.

Jyggalag’s eyes grew expectant. “Flee… please…” she begged Mora.

 _Even in her current state, she still thought of him…_ It stirred dangerous thoughts in his mind… _And, with Rowan bristling to meet his challenge…_ “Of course, I am! Come Rowan. Show me what my champion is capable of.”

Before taking up Mora’s challenge, Rowan uttered a contented growl. He leapt forward in great strides to quickly close the distance.

It was a mistake really; Mora’s influence stronger the closer to his person.

With less than a thought, several tendrils had snaked around the Drake’s limbs, efficiently halting his charge. He howled and tugged at his bindings, but unless Rowan was willing to break his own limbs for this small spat: Mora had already won. It just remained a matter of getting that simple fact through Rowan’s thick, instinct fueled skull.

“You asked for this…”

He waved out an arm, and the tendrils twisted downward, each one dragging on the Drake’s limbs.

Rowan landed hard, his massive weight shaking the ground as he was yanked to the dirt.

“Go for it Moralove! You’re the best!”

Mora flushed with Jyggalag’s praise, but he couldn’t let himself be distracted. He still had to make sure Rowan yielded. A tendril coiled around Rowan’s tail lifting it away from his furred backside as another swung to give a stinging slap. And another. And another.

“Aouf!” Rowan twitched within Mora’s grasp, his pride injured more than what Mora’s tendrils could physically inflict.

“Moramour! We got his ring!”

_We?_

He turned, discovering that Squid had decided to join them sometime during the fray. As Jyggalag was holding the familiar silver band between her fingers, Squid must have brought it out with him.

 _But alas…_ Mora would have to disappoint Jyggalag, as he had no intention of sealing Rowan’s dragon half away yet. After all, the effects of Rowan’s thu’um would fade enough that Jyggalag would take the opportunity to transform back.

“Good.” Mora said instead of voicing his thoughts. “We’ll need it after I’m done with you.”

It took a moment for Jyggalag to shake her puzzled expression. “No… No no no nooo!” She rattled the bars, having similar success to Rowan’s attempts of earlier. “Put the ring on now!”

“But then you’d change back…” _Not to mention that particularly delicious smell would disappear._ “And I’ll never get another chance to see you as a woman…”

In the background there’s another satisfying smack, followed by Rowan’s whined confession, “I yield…you’re my Qahnaarin…”

* * *

Mora condescendingly ruffled his hair. “Excellent. Now stay put Rowan while I claim my ‘prize’.”

In purposeful strides, his Sil Deinmaar turned away and headed towards the object of their fight. “Jyggalag, you are mine!”

Rowan knew that tone and couldn’t help feeling a little upset at being left out. His Motmahus Qahnaarin however, wasn’t sharing the same sentiments. “W-wait! Don’t look! Moralove!” She backed up as the cage melted away to reveal her, to eventually run when the tendrils had disappeared completely.

The sight was tantalizing, and had he not still been restrained by Mora’s tendrils, Rowan would have likely chased her down regardless of his defeat – it was also likely the only reason he was still bound.

“Where are you going?”

With his tendrils doing most of the work, Mora caught her easily. They wrapped her like a present, her arms bound tightly behind her back as they delivered Jyggalag to Mora’s arms.

“Let’s go home.”

A portal opened, and Jyggalag’s struggles became more determined. “H-Help me! R… Rowan!!!”

His ears perked, his name almost foreign on her tongue, but it was enough to get him to attempt moving again. This time the tendrils couldn’t hold him, and he launched from their grip.

But, he had been too late.

The swirling blacks and greens faded to nothing, with only an echoing “The ring…” left behind. His attention snapped to Squid who had kept hold of his ring this whole time.

“S…Squid! Ring!”

The creature seemed conflicted between Rowan’s barked order and Mora’s already implied one. Unable to choose sides, it eventually threw the silver band away.

The ring soared momentarily through the air, its gleaming surface attracting the attention of a nearby crow. The black bird sang of its newest acquisition, wheeling back to store its newest treasure in a nest atop a towering pine.

Panicked, Rowan pursued it.

_He had his Kulaas to rescue…_

* * *

“Let’s go home.” Words that should have been comforting were anything but, as Moralove’s tendrils circled around his transformed body.

He hated its shapeless form… its ugly weakness. His skin was so sensitive, his mind far more susceptible to emotions. But, worse was his Amour-a’s indifference to his opinion, and… it scared him. _Him!_ So, he did the only thing his frightened, emotion-riddled brain could think of: Jyggalag called for help.

The Dragon broke its fetters at his beckoning; to race towards him. But, the damnable beast was too slow. It wouldn’t make it.

“The ring!” Jyggalag shouted, internally wincing against the pitch his voice had shifted to. “Get the ring!”

The portal closed between them, and suddenly he was falling. Jyggalag could only hope the beast would understand his request.

Silk sheets cushioned his descent, to lay rumpled and creased beneath his sudden weight. Tendrils poured unhindered from the walls and black ceiling, to lick up his sides and tug his kimono open further.

_It was becoming obvious that Moralove had no intent of stopping._

“Jygg…”

He startled, the gasp slipping past his softened lips before he could stop it. Jyggalag squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to regain the use of his arms. The tendrils holding them remained firm.

“Please, stop! Not with this unworthy body!”

A hand, gentle in its motions, stroked along his cheek. “Shhh… Jyggy. You are so lovely…”

_Am I?_

He could almost believe Moralove then… _her_ eyes desperate to find the lie in his face. What she found was want, a surging desire creeping through her Amour-a’s visage. Jyggalag recognized that look and she wasn’t sure she liked being on the receiving end of it.

It reminded her far too much of how excited Moramour could get over something new.

Tendrils quickly flipped her over, to hold her partially suspended as her knees held the rest of her weight. Another came to tilt her chin up to Moramour’s lips, where a chuckled, “a crow stole the ring,” momentarily left them before he kissed her.

_What?!?_

A moan worked its way up her throat as a tendril curled around a breast, erasing her momentary panic. She fell deeper into the kiss, until there was nothing but her and her Amour-a.

_Hermaeus Mora… I love you…_

Tongues wrestled with each other in a mock show of dominance, to end with a series of exchanged nips.

_So much… For eternity._

Their lips broke apart as Moralove turned to kiss down her throat and eventually suckle her exposed breast.

_You’ll be gentle… right?_

The dangerous pinch of teeth indicated otherwise, especially when it was accompanied by a short laugh.

“I can’t wait.”

At a snap of fingers, and her position was suddenly shifted. Her legs were spread as her back was forcibly arched backwards. It was purely through chance that a section of her draping kimono still covered her private bits.

“Show me your flower, Jyggy…” Her Amour-a stroked her legs, seemingly enthralled with how smooth she was. Jyggalag was far more focused on the various tendrils that had sprung up behind him – each eager to explore her nethers. A hand slid towards her core to lift away the fabric covering her hole.

 _No… Don’t look._ But, Moralove wasn’t going slow down, not as he was stroking himself harder, his heady pants sounding in time to his thumb flicking over her sensitive lips.

 _Nngh… The sensation… so foreign… and yet…_ It felt good, her voice transformed into no more than sensual moans.

Tendrils kneaded her breasts, to squeeze and play with the supple flesh and send small quakes through her body. Moramour’s thumb retreated to be replaced by slender tendrils that teased her openings further – one slipping into her ass as the other pushed into a place unknown before now.

“D-Don’t…” Jyggalag said weakly, the entirety slowly overwriting her mind. _Not inside…_

“I’ll be careful… It’s not yet time for your deflowering,” he assured her as the slender limb wriggled deeper inside.

“Hng…” The noise was stolen, and she could feel herself release.

_I… came?_

It surprised her, yet Moralove seemed to be expecting it. His finger drew a trail of slick along her inner thigh as the tendril retracted, and his tongue briefly took its place. “Delicious…” He gave a final squeeze to her thigh before announcing, “Time to dig in.”

Her body quivered, and a tendril stroked over her lips seeking entrance. It slunk away when it became clear she wasn’t going to indulge it.

_What’s taking you so long, Rowan?_

“Be gentle… please…” she begged her Amour-a.

“I would… Truly… But, we’re running out of time. Sorry.” He lined up his blunt head to her entrance, ready to spear her with a thrust of thin hips.

Jyggalag had been hesitant before, but this wasn’t how she wanted it. Wouldn’t be how _he_ would be taken. “Hermaeus Mora! Don’t you dare!!”

“I won’t let another one of my flowers be stolen again… You’re mine.” Moralove’s mind had drifted elsewhere, leaving his instincts in charge.

“Moramour… Please.” His words fell on deaf ears. Jyggalag tried to kick and squirm, but it only encouraged the tendrils to entwine tighter.

Hands spread him wider and true panic set it. “No! No! I beg you!!!!” His eyes clamped closed. _R… ROWAN! HURRY!!!_

There came silence, then a disquieted, “I can’t… Not like this…” The tendrils holding him, suddenly retreated.

As Jyggalag was released, he pulled himself into a tight ball, face tucking into the spoiled sheets to hide his shame.

“Jyggy… I’m not Molag… I’m not…”

Unwilling to hear Moramour’s excuses, he continued to adjust the hem of his kimono to cover himself, to create some sort of barrier.

“I lost discipline… DAMN!” Moralove’s robe began to reform around him as he clutched his head. “You’re just so enticing… It’s wreaking havoc on my senses… I’m sorry. So sorry, Jyggy…”

It was shortly after that Jyggalag felt his muscles and bones stretch, his strength returning as the effects of the thu’um faded. _Rowan must have finally gotten the ring…_

“Jy-”

“Home,” Jyggalag said coldly. “Bring me back home.”

“Y-yes Love…”

****

The crows were being awfully loud when he was dropped off at the door to his home.

They were circling in great numbers around a tall pine, the occasional one diving at the naked figure desperately clutching the top branches. It was Rowan, at the mercy of nature until Moralove would inevitably save him.

Jyggalag had little further interest and disappeared back into his home, simply content to just lock himself away.

_Perhaps forever._

* * *

Rowan exchanged a look with Squid who was perched over his shoulder. “Nothing bad can happen, right? We’re just checking in on him…”

It had been two months already, and his Daedric neighbor remained out of sight, silent. All suspiciously so. Rowan had to investigate his love rival’s sudden absence. _If not for himself, for Dyus who had recently moved in with him._

Shuffling the backpack around his shoulders, he started the brief trek towards Jyggalag’s ridiculously huge mansion.

He remembered a tree, crows… and an urge to save a damsel in distress; events all leading up to Jyggalag’s sudden reclusion. Suddenly, there were no usual invasions during his dates with Mora, and when Rowan broke down and finally asked, Mora himself was trying to avoid the subject. He should be thrilled to not see Jyggalag around, but Rowan could only feel guilty, despite having no clear memory when he lost himself to his draconic instincts.

Mora had assured him it was nothing to worry about, that he still possessed the memories. It was just that he couldn’t access them as he was – his less-dragony thoughts much more rigid and structured than the mind of his other half. Should he transform those memories would become clear again.

He gave a quick tug to the earring Mora had given him in exchange for his ring. Rowan wouldn’t be transforming again unless he forcibly flipped the hanging pendant. How it wouldn’t flip on its own remained a mystery, but as usual, his answer was likely magic.

With a little effort, Rowan slid the entrance open, to find it completely black inside. “Woah.”

Squid could only agree with a clipped whistle of its own.

Rowan moved slow as his eyes adjusted to the dark. The gloom a persistent thing even as he pushed further in, even up to where Jyggalag had connected his Daedric realm.

_Sealed? Why?_

Dyus had said his master was out of sorts, but for Jyggalag to willingly seal his realm…

_Was Jyggalag even still here?_

He was tempted to leave right then, but… _just in case._

Rowan tried a few rooms, finding more than a few completely bare – not that it was surprising considering how big the whole place was.

On a wild guess he looked in the master bedroom on the second floor, hearing a slight rustle as he entered.

_About time…_

“There you are! Couldn’t come out to greet your guests?” Squinting, Rowan tried to get a better look at the sitting figure.

A low growl greeted him instead.

“What is with you? It’s been two months, and Dyus is-"

“Leave me alone!” shouted a rather aggravated Daedra.

“Not a chance,” he responded near automatically. “You look thinner… and, have you grown a beard?” _Not to mention he had let his hair grow out past his waist._

There came another low rumble, the Daedra evidently not appreciating his observations. “Leave! I won’t die!”

Rowan sighed. _If only…_ “You really look like a wounded beast…”

“Go. Away. I’ve already sent Dyus to you…”

“Yeah… Was sure surprised to find him organizing my books… I bet you had to chase him out.”

A growl.

“So, you actually going to see the sun today?”

“No.”

“Even if it meant foregoing another date with Mora?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“I... see… Something must have happened then.”

“What are you-” Jyggalag started bitterly.

A loud thud interrupted the Daedra as Rowan dropped his backpack to the ground.

“You’re leaving me no choice… Jyggalove.” He wiggled his hips as he clasped his hands. “ _I’m_ going to have to nurse _you._ ” As embarrassed as he felt, it was worth it to see the brief twitch of revulsion momentarily overwrite the Daedra’s prevalent anger.

“Last chance…” Jyggalag ground his teeth together. “GET. OUT.”

“Then you’re going to have to kick me out yourself.”

The Daedra’s hand slapped the floor as he leaned threateningly forward. “Pest!” He rose in a rapid, smooth motion. “I warned you!!”

Immediately, Rowan was unsure if he had pushed his luck too far; that indeed the Daedra was doing fine on his own. But, a moment later that didn’t appear to be the case.

Jyggalag’s stance wobbled, and a surprise similar to Rowan’s, flitted over his face at his abrupt weakness. His legs gave out, and he was falling.

“Jygg…!” Rowan panicked, and driven by his instincts, he rushed to catch the falling Daedra.

They collapsed into a pile of tangled limbs on the floor; Jyggalag out cold, and yet still growling slightly. It was his stomach, and Rowan would’ve laughed had his heart not been beating so erratically. He hugged the Daedra closer. “Dumbass…”

It took some careful maneuvering, but Rowan had managed to wrangle the Daedra into what he presumed was a bed – though there was no frame for the mattress that had been spread out across a reed mat. Once Jyggalag looked comfortable, Rowan left temporarily to retrieve the shaving kit Dyus insisted he pack along with some other essentials.

The Daedra was still unconscious when he returned, looking just so… _vulnerable, in need of protection..._

Rowan sighed, dragging his free hand down his face as the other set the bowl and razor down. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Carefully, he moved Jyggalag’s head to his lap. The thin blade of razor caught the low light of the candle he had lit, and he began, stopping only when Jyggalag briefly stirred.

When he had finished, he wiped the lather from Jyggalag’s chin, then put his tools away.

_Still no response, just shallow breathing._

If he didn’t know better, the Daedra was suffering from malnourishment and exhaustion. _How did he get like this…? Where was the arrogant Daedra that would constantly try to get between him and Mora?_

_Regardless, it was time for work._

With a muted groan, Rowan stood, and knowing he’d get his tunic dirty, he slipped out of it to lay it with his pack.

He opened a few windows to let in the afternoon breeze, the sudden light near blinding. Rowan then proceeded to do some light dusting, removing the many bladed weapons lying around as he went. _He couldn’t exactly predict what the Daedra’s reaction would be when he finally woke, and if his earlier response had been any indication, it wouldn’t exactly be peaceful._

When he had finished, he started cooking, dropping the ingredients into the pot to stew over the next few hours.

“Master. I brought what you asked.” Dyus had returned bringing the small parcel Rowan requested. He thanked him, setting it aside for later as he went to check on Jyggalag.

The bed was empty, and the window shutters had been closed.

“Jygg…?” A hand clamped around his ankle, and he startled. His uncovered eye drifted down to spy the furious Daedra.

“Get… Out…” rasped Jyggalag, his sunken features exaggerated in the low light, giving him a spooky appearance.

The next few seconds weren’t exactly Rowan’s proudest as he gave a slight shriek, summoning Dyus in the process.

The Daedra’s bloodshot eyes swiveled on the near-albino and he shouted a strained order. “Dyus, get him out of here!”

Dyus didn’t even bat an eye. “He’s far too strong Master. I’m afraid you may have to deal with him on your own.”

Still far too exhausted to do anything more, Jyggalag growled into the reed mat and released his grip on Rowan’s ankle. Dyus moved in to help the graceless lump into a sitting position.

Jyggalag tsked. “Why are you doing this?”

“For Mora mostly.” Rowan accepted the broom from Dyus and started sweeping.

Jyggalag opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away. “I don’t want to see him.”

“Has he come to visit you yet?”

Silence prevailed for a solid half-second. “No.”

 _So, Mora was avoiding him… The last time Mora was avoiding someone was when…_ His face flushed; the memory fresh in his mind of Mora’s first… confession.

“Did something happen? I don’t remember much when I transform.”

The Daedra’s fists curled around the material of his robe. “I don’t want to talk about it, nor of Hermaeus Mora.”

_Something definitely happened… But, what would have set Mora off this time? And, with Jyggalag?_

He slid his hand down his face. There was so much he was missing out on, so much he couldn’t remember. But, he guessed it didn’t matter for now. The putrid smell announced that his stew was about ready. “Well, diner is ready in any case.”

****

Rowan ladled out a healthy serving for himself and another for Jyggalag – the Daedra turning slightly green over the muddy grey concoction.

“Are you trying to finish me off?”

He smiled around the spoonful he had shoved into his face. “It’s an advenshurers mealsh.” _True it looked horrendous, smelled worse, and at best the taste was only… somewhat terrible. But, it would at least cling to the ribs… and that was something the Daedra was desperately in need of._ “You neeshs to eash somethin’.”

“I refuse to…” Jyggalag’s stomach chose that moment to remind them both how empty it truly was.

Rowan’s grin grew wider as he popped the spoon from his mouth. “There’s no need to hold yourself back on my account.” He scooped up another mouthful.

A disgusted scowl slid onto the Daedra’s face. “I’m-"

Suddenly, he had Rowan’s spoon in his mouth, Rowan having shoved it there.

Jyggalag nearly choked as he was forced to swallow. “You-"

Another spoonful.

This time Jyggalag was much more careful not to open his mouth – not that Rowan was going to be merciful. He pinched the Daedra’s nose shut, wrestling with him slightly as Jyggalag tried to get some air. But it was inevitable, and he eventually had to gasp through his lips, earning himself another spoonful.

“This would be easier on both of us if you just fed yourself.”

Not about to be baited into opening his mouth again, the Daedra eyed him warily; he did however, reluctantly grab his own spoon.

Satisfied that Jyggalag was going to actually feed himself, Rowan relaxed back into his spot at the low table – enjoying every ensuing grimace the Daedra had to offer.

When everything was finished, Rowan cleaned up the bowels and cutlery, to return with the parcel Dyus had brought by earlier.

He dropped the sweets in front of the Daedra. “Dyus made them, so you don’t have to worry about the taste this time.”

Jyggalag only took a moment before he shoved the first pastry into his face. Rowan could have sworn tears dotted the corner of his dark eyes as he chewed.

Swallowing, Jyggalag pondered the second cupcake. “You… can take the second one.”

_Oh?_

“Thanks. You sure?”

_Knowing how good Dyus’ pastries were, he wasn’t about to pass up on it. Especially if it was offered so freely._

“Positive. I’m going to rest a bit…”

Rowan licked the frosting from his fingers, having devoured the dessert in a quick bite. “Did you bathe already? I know how diligent you are in staying clean.”

Gulping slightly, the Daedra glanced away.

“No? By Talos…” He raised a hand to hide his smirk. “How dirty. You really should wash more.”

The Daedra’s eyes drew back to glare at him. “And when pray-tell, was your last bath?”

“Two weeks ago,” he answered flatly, much to Jyggalag’s apparent repulsion.

Rowan moved to Jyggalag’s side and hauled him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go bathe together.”

“By Anu… Just leave me alone.” Not having the strength to fight him for once, Jyggalag allowed himself to be hauled away.

“Not going to happen.”

* * *

“Wait a minute…” It took a bit, before Jyggalag realized where Rowan was taking him, and by then it was too late to do anything.

He fell into the shallow pond, startling the koi he had kept in it.

“This is my pond!!! Not my bath!” Jyggalag shook the water from his sleeves as he glared up at the idiot who had dumped him into it.

“But, your realm is sealed and…”

Jyggalag splashed him. _If he had to be in soggy clothes, then so should the lumbering clod._

“Third door on the left!!”

****

After marveling the size of his bathroom, Rowan finally relented and gave him some space.

“Do you need any help?” came Rowan’s all too inquisitive voice from the other side of the bathing space.

“No.” Jyggalag was quick to shut him down, but apparently not clear enough. There was a touch to his left shoulder as Rowan’s breath ghosted over his shoulder, over his unclaimed bonding site that had remained such since he separated from Sheogorath.

“Aww. Come now. Don’t be shy.”

Jyggalag turned without a second’s notice, smacking the Nord hard in the face with the water pail he had been using to rinse himself.

“Ouf!” Rowan rubbed his injured cheek. “What was that for?”

“You know exactly ‘what for’,” panted Jyggalag, shrinking away from the sudsy sponge Rowan had attempted to use on him. “You did that on purpose!”

“Huh?! I just wanted to help!” Rowan looked more than a little irritated, obviously having no clue what he had done to earn Jyggalag’s assault.

“Well, don’t.” Turning away, Jyggalag touched his bonding site softly. “That place is for… _nobody._ ”

Without another word, Rowan dropped the sponge nearby and slipped into the hot water.

When Jyggalag was similarly clean, he joined Rowan in the large bath, making sure to sit on the far side. “You stay on your side,” he instructed drawing an invisible line between them with a finger.

Rowan huffed and looked away. His arms spread out over the rocks as he settled in. He gave no indication he had heard but hadn’t tried to move any closer for the rest of their soak.

****

Jyggalag sighed heavily. Now that he had been groomed and fed, sleep was becoming a more persistent need. He nestled into his bed, feeling almost relief as he allowed himself to relax under the heavy comforter.

It lasted for all of a minute before a weight and quiet rumble joined him. His dark eyes snapped open to find Moralove’s pet curling into a small ball, and the Nord rolling out his sleeping roll beside him.

An eye twitched.

“Can’t you sleep in _your_ home?”

The Nord offered a large yawn, before tucking into the pile of furs. “No.” Rowan gave him a sleepy smirk. “Sweet dreams.”

With more than a few choice swears offered, Jyggalag rolled over and pulled his blankets tight over his head. _He didn’t have the energy to deal with him anymore…_

After a few moments of silence, he couldn’t help voicing a complaint. “This is all your fault…”

He didn’t receive a response before sleep claimed him… _not that Jyggalag had been expecting one._

****

He woke the next morning with the birds, feeling better than he had in a while: safe, warm… _Warm…?_  He blinked blearily, shaking the last remnants of sleep from his system.

The added warmth happened to be coming from the Nord spooned up beside him. _Apparently, Rowan couldn’t be expected to stay in his own damned bed._ However, the hard shape poking into his lower back had pushed beyond Jyggalag’s thinning patience.

_How dare you!!!?_

With ample humiliation fueling his actions, Jyggalag’s hand slid under his pillow to fetch the sole dagger he had managed to hide during Rowan’s thorough clean of his home.

Bringing the dagger up high, he spun it – so the blade was pointing down – and started his strike.

_Jyggalag might not be able to kill the Nord, but he was going to leave a message that this was not something he would tolerate._

A sword-calloused hand caught his wrist. “Morning,” yawned the Nord. His blue eye drifted to the steel still aimed between his eyes. “Looks like I missed a knife…”

Jyggalag growled, despising how easily he was denied his morning vengeance.

“No choice then.” Rowan shook the blade from Jyggalag’s fingers at a snap of his wrist. It fell between them as the Nord yanked him close, capturing his lips.

Startled, Jyggalag back up quickly, his face flushing with mild confusion.

Leaning back on his arms, Rowan laughed. “No better way to calm a Daedric Prince…”

“Wait a minute! Where is your ring?” Panic started creeping in with his realization. It would only be a matter of time before the Dragon started making itself known, its affections growing with its influence over the Nord’s body.

There was a moment of confusion on Rowan’s face, but it turned quickly back into his annoying grin. “Oh. I don’t need it anymore.” He flexed his hand, eye tracing over where the ring had been prior. “Mora gave me an earring as the switch instead.”

He fumbled for a moment with something tied on a loose chain around his neck. “But, speaking of rings… Look at what Squid fetched for me…”

“No…” Jyggalag recognized Sanguine’s ring instantly, and a chill ran up his spine.

_Revenge? No. No… Don’t come any closer! I don’t want to be female! I don’t want to! I don’t-_

As his body started to tremble uncontrollably, he retreated, Rowan pursuing him on hands and knees. His eyes closed tightly.

_Nooooo!_

When nothing seemed to have happened, he dared to pry his eyes open.

Rowi straddling him with her arms was not what he was expecting. “Rowi…?”

She leaned in closer still, her breasts bared as Rowan had not slept in a shirt. “Time to spoil you… _my Prince._ ”

Seeing Rowi again was like seeing a harbour in a storm. The relief was overwhelming. “Rowi!” Jyggalag wrapped his arms tight around her, his face burying into her chest as he hugged her.

“Jygg? You okay?”

“Nooooooooooo…” he near wailed, still unwilling to part with the small comfort she gave his heart.

Rowi smoothed a hand through his hair, calming him slightly. “I see…”

Jyggalag couldn’t brave a response and just allowed her to continue petting him.

“Was there something you want to share? You can tell me if it would help. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Really…? Not even Hermaeus Mora?”

“Especially not Mora,” she agreed.

Pondering if he should speak of his woes, he remained silent for a moment. Eventually, he supposed it couldn’t be the worst thing to do, and he revealed his shame, spilling the shared memory that Rowi had no apparent knowledge of.

“That… explains a lot… But, not why you’ve been hiding since then. Normally I have to fight you off Mora, and you would persistently cling.”

He stiffened. “Ugh. If you really want to know.”

_And, now the worst would come out…_

“Since Moralove wasn’t… wouldn’t come to apologize any time soon, I simply returned to my realm. He would come sooner or later; it was as simple as that. And, I was content to wait. After all, time is no issue to Daedra. But, now… now, _they_ know about my…” He didn’t want to finish. The thought was more than implied anyway.

****

_Sanguine had been the first to sneak by._

“Hello, _Dragon’s slut._ I heard through the grapevine that you have something new for me…”

Revulsion quakes up Jyggalag’s spine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery having gotten far too close for his liking. A flash of silver at Sanguine’s throat has Jyggalag’s… _visitor_ backing up a fair bit.

“That’s not very fair, nor very appropriate for such an innocent… flower.”

He growls. _No one else was supposed to know…_

“If that’s how you want it…” Sanguine slinks to where he came from.

_When the cold winds of Coldhabour began to creep in, there was little choice but to flee my own realm… But, you can’t say no to Molag Bal. Not with a body weaker than any half-prince._

Jyggalag used what little magic remained he possessed to put multiple seals on his gateway. But, it would only be a temporary measure.

_He’ll find his way to me eventually…_

“Master?” Dyus’ voice is full of worry.

_I could at least save Dyus by sending him to you…_

“You must leave.”

“But, Master… who will…”

He can see the hesitance in Dyus’ eyes. The man is far too loyal. “Go! That’s an order!” Jyggalag feels guilty, but exploiting that loyalty was the only thing he can do to keep the man safe.

“As you wish, Master…” Dyus eventually does leave, but Jyggalag can tell it is not because he wants to.

_The best thing would have been to completely destroy the gateway and leave to guide his pursuers away… but he had grown far too weak. With anxiety burrowing its way into him… well, the state he had been found in was clear enough to any…_

****

“I’m sorry… All I want is to protect you all.” Jyggalag closed his eyes, shame dyeing his cheeks. “Go now… I’m…”

“STUPID!” Rowi roared, clutching him tighter to her chest.

His eyes flicked up to her face. The single pendant earring dangling from her ear was rattling, but its eye remained closed. For now the Dragon remained contained despite the growl working its way up her throat.

“‘Dragon’s slut’? Those Bastards…”

“Rowi?”

Her frown turned to a smile, but the danger had yet to pass. “I know all too well about doing things on your own...” Her hands clamped tightly around his head.

“Hum… Maybe I should…”

“Do NOT forget to ask your mate-” She grabbed the front of his yukata, yanking him closer to her face as she fell into him. “I mean... Don’t carry everything on your shoulders!”

“Mate?” asked Jyggalag shakily. _The slip was too much to hope for if it were true. Did she consider them that close…?_

Rowi had suddenly developed the faintest red to her cheeks...

“Masters? I hate to interrupt, but breakfast is ready.” Dyus laid out the trays, a setting of bread and hard cheese for Rowi and a meal of rice and dried fish for Jyggalag.

“Thank you, Dyus. I’m doing dinner.”

His morning task completed, Dyus rose from his kneel. “Of course, Master Felborne.”

The distraction could only last so long, and Rowi turned back to Jyggalag, the hidden fury still burning within her. “I know what to do now. Time for ‘care and training’… We’ll start with care.”

She gave him a tight squeeze, and his thoughts guilty drifted to ones less pure as her bosom pressed against his chest.

Disappointingly, that didn’t seem to be what she was implying as her warmth pulled away soon after. “But, first I’ll need clothes.”

Rowi rummaged through her bag, recovering a smaller tunic and a pair of skin-tight slacks; the second of which he suspected was due to her guessing what her size was ahead of time – not that his lower half could complain about how the cloth hugged her hips tightly when she slipped them on. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice his minor staring as she dressed herself.

“Ready!” she said, cinching up the cloth belt around her waist. “I did the hard work yesterday… so let’s put some effort into getting you back to normal.”

Fetching his breakfast, she returned swiftly.

“I’m not hungry…”

She wasn’t about to accept that answer. “Eat. Or the _Dragon_ will make sure of it,” Rowi threatened, her fist coiling into his yukata as her earring seemed to glint menacingly.

His mind changed quickly. “I’ll do it! I’ll eat!”

“Good.” She released him to rattle the windows open.

Breathing deep and letting the crisp morning air enter her lungs, she began to enjoy the view as he enjoyed his own – making sure to finish his breakfast before Rowi could catch him staring.

****

With the clink of settling plates and cutlery breakfast was over.

Pulling out a pair of shears, she grinned impishly. “Let’s cut your hair, then we can enjoy some fresh air.”

Though his white hair was cut away in large chunks, it did seem that Rowi knew what she was doing. The final length was somewhere around mid-back.

Jyggalag inspected its trimmed edges as they leaned up against each other on the terrace. It could have almost been considered romantic had Rowi’s arm not been around his neck in a near death-grip.

“Such a nice view… You can even see my house from here. Oh, and I especially like that view of my bedroom window…”

Her brow scrunched up, and his gaze slunk away.

Raising a suspicious brow, she briefly released him to frame the view with her forefingers and thumbs. “And, my... bed…”

“Really?” He gulped, a cold sweat forming along his brow. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Out of all the possible rooms you could have chosen, I wonder how this one became your bedroom.”

“Truly a wonder,” Jyggalag hastily agreed.

Her voice turned icy. “Truly…”

From her tone, he was sure there would be some form of repercussion later.

****

“Are you sure about this?” Jyggalag asked hesitantly, feeling more than a little vulnerable as he lay out on his stomach – they had moved back to his mattress so he had some comfort beneath him, but he still was naked, only a light blanket covering his legs.

“Of course,” came Rowi’s assurance as she sat across his back. “You’re stiff as a board. I’m going to work out some of those knots of yours with a massage. Something nice to get you to relax a bit more.”

_Not that he could relax with her straddling him like that…_

There came a loud crack from his shoulder, and Jyggalag was pretty sure she dislocated something of his. But, Rowi didn’t seem concerned about the noise. If anything, it seemed to be what she was wanting. “Hup, found the first one!”

Tears dotted his eyes, and his head fell face-first into the pillow.

****

The rest of the day continued much like the previous and that morning had – Rowi proving to be just as relentless as Rowan had in her nursing; though Jyggalag really should stop considering them different people in his mind’s eye: their cooking was near identical, and equally undesirable. Only the threat lying behind her quivering earring encouraged each tasteless mouthful to his lips.

Even bathing was the same, as she distanced herself in the large bath, announcing over the trickle of fresh was that, “You told me to stay on this side.”

_That might have been true, but he was allowed to change his mind… Right?_

After an eventful day, he tucked into bed – tired and bodily exhausted.

Rowi, looking in an enviable pleased mood, settled into her own bedroll.

“Goodnight. I’m here if you need me.”

“Huh…? Oh. Good…night, Rowi…” Jyggalag could almost say he was disappointed that she was sleeping on her own, but his eyelids felt heavy and they closed as soon as his head hit the pillow.

“Jygg?”

He was too tired for any more questions, so he remained silent.

A quiet rustle and a sudden presence beside him had his eyes shooting open again. It was Rowi, her blue eye staring brightly despite the dim light of Nirn’s twin moons bleeding through the window shades. “Sneak attack...”

“Rowi?!”

Her chasing chuckle had a light blush touching his cheeks, and it didn’t help that her loose nightwear had vanished somewhere between her bed and his.

Gentle hands stroked over his shoulders, pushing aside the black yukata Dyus had chosen as his sleepwear. “Shhh… I think I know what you need now.” Her airy voice tickled his ear as she pressed against him, her finger tracing down his torso to dip beneath his blanket. “There’s something I forgot to take ‘care’ of earlier.”

As one hand pinched and tweaked his nipple, the other was working to coax his blade from its sheath. Rowi’s tongue continued to lap a line along his stomach as she wriggled her way down his body, taking with her more than a few stifled moans.

When she reached his hips, her hand flipped back the blankets and his cock sprung free. “Hello there,” she sing-songed, giving a kiss to its dual slits. Her dainty tongue licked up his shaft, to swirl and pull it to her lips. He quivered under her ministrations, his thoughts sinking into the warmth of her mouth.

_Oh Rowi… Rowiiii…_

Jyggalag held his tongue, but he had no intelligible words that he would have been able to use anyway.

Rowi continued with her mouth for a little more, before slipping off him with pop to switch with her hand. She milked him solidly as her lips mouthed over his balls. He was so close now, and yet he never wanted it to stop.

“Jyggy…”

"I love you… so much…"

****

Jyggalag woke slowly, the remnants of his sleep peeling away as he found himself tangled in Rowi’s limbs, in her warmth, and in her scent. Her eyepatch had worked itself loose in her slumber, yet she was very much still dressed in the large shirt.

_The tantalizing events of earlier had been nothing more than a dream, a fantasy that his subconscious had conjured for him._

She murmured lightly in her sleep and rolled from her side to her back.

Carefully, he lifted the leather patch from her face. Rowi continued dozing as he took in the softened features of her face.

_How would things have turned out if you had been born a woman…? How would I have dealt with you, I wonder? Would you have tamed me as you have now? Would I have spared you my wrath?_

Less chaste thoughts flitted through his mind at what he might have done: thoughts of soft, plush sheets, and fine silks. Of crystalline gems adorning pale skin, and a coy grin greeting him and Moralove as they returned home…

There was a whisper from behind. “It’s useless to ponder over the past, Master. How about we eat? I’ve made your favorite meal.”

Dyus departed shortly to return with food on a wooden tray and a sitting pillow.

“Thank you, Dyus.”

The man hardly looked up from his task of setting out breakfast before him. “I am simply doing my job, Master.”

Jyggalag glanced away sheepishly; his servant had mistaken him. “I meant…” He sighed, his words heavy. “Thank-you for everything. Really. I know I’m not easy to serve and…”

When he had looked back Dyus’ singular expression had turned to one of hidden joy.

“Dyus…?”

Another voice interrupted any further discussion. “Guys?” Sleep lingered in her voice. “I can’t find my pants…” Rowi had left his bedroom, and was standing in the doorway, her shirt slipping from her thin shoulders.

Jyggalag’s jaw dropped as the bowl he had been holding dropped similarly. There was just something about her slightly out of focus gaze and her current lack of self-dignity that got him more than a little flustered – especially considering the vision he had been graced with the night prior.

He turned for the mental stability of his servant, but the man had vanished behind a door; to merely peek out with a parchment encouraging him to play up his previous weakness.

The Daedric Prince waggled a scolding finger at the man. Dyus simply waggled his brows in return and disappeared, leaving him alone with the still sleepy creature who had decided to drape herself over his shoulder. She quickly fell asleep again.

The flush from that morning returned a hundredfold and he dared not move, even as his legs started cramping.

****

Somehow two weeks had passed, the Nord frequently alternating between Rowan and Rowi.

_Today seemed to be Rowan._

“There you are… What are you doing?”

Jyggalag turned from his gateway. “Nothing,” he started quickly, having just spent the last few hours pondering its seals degrading states. “What is it?”

“It’s Mora’s day, so I’m leaving. But, I’ll be back. I was just wondering if you wanted to come?”

His expression fell slightly. _So his chance had come after all… the chance to sneak away._ Somehow, the thought had become even harder to put into motion. “No… Thanks.”

He could tell Rowan suspected something, but without knowing what, the Nord quickly dismissed it with a shake of his head.

Rowan shrugged his pack higher up his shoulder. “Well, I’m leaving Squid here, so don’t look so sad… _sweetie._ ” The word rolled of his tongue with a sickly sweetness that had both cringing, though Rowan still maintained his annoying smirk.

Before he could stop himself, Jyggalag had tossed his kneeling pillow at the Nord. It missed him by inches as he continued his hearty laugh down the stairs from Jyggalag’s home.

“Byeee!” came an echoing chuckle from the departing head of dark-brown hair.

Jyggalag tsked as he sat back down – now without the comfort of a pillow. Cold air curled around his knees, drawing his attention back to his gateway.

Another seal had crumbled and fallen away, to finally let in Coldharbour’s creeping chill.

“How much time do we have left?”

“Not much,” answered Dyus, appearing as solemn as Jyggalag felt.

“Alright… Prepare what you can. We’re leaving now.”

* * *

The Black Book in Rowan bag trembled to announce its true Masters’ arrival.

“It would be far easier for me if you at least lived in Solstheim,” came Mora’s usual complaint as his amorphous form materialized several feet away.

“You mean, ‘it’d be warmer’.”

“Solstheim has its cold, Rowan. I’m sure I could find some snowbank to toss you in to prove my point.”

Rowan chuckled. “I missed you too.” He opened his arms wide for his lover.

Mora took the open invitation and cuddled in close, transforming into his lesser form as he did so. “I missed you more.” They knocked heads. “Let’s go in and catch up...”

He couldn’t agree more as he leaned in to kiss Mora. Their breaths ghosted each other as the distance between them closed, and for a moment nothing else mattered. Nothing else, save for a distant chirping that grew louder and more insistent with each passing second.

Rowan risked looking up for a moment, and ended up with a face full of tentacles. Squid was frantic as he was persistent; his chirps and whistles loud and repeating. He was upset. That much was clear.

“Squid?! Slow down. I can hardly understand you.”

The black-green blob gibbered only slightly more coherently.

“What? Gateway? Cold?!”

A few panicked tentacles smacked him in the face.

“Jyggalag's gone?!”

Panic started reaching Mora’s own face. “What does he mean by ‘gone’?”

Frowning, Rowan could feel his dragon side sitting uncomfortably. It was caught somewhere between worry and anger.

_He shouldn’t have left Jyggalag on his own…_

“Mora! Go check his gateway!” Without further explanation, he turned and ran to the woods; leaving behind Mora a little confused.

“Sure…” Rowan heard as a chasing response.

* * *

Nightfall came faster than he thought it would; the darkness no longer his welcome ally. Dyus had been quick to remedy it though, starting a small fire to hold back the evening’s gloom. “Master…?”

Jyggalag let the fire’s warmth soak into his back, his attention focused into the surrounding forest. His sword sat out along his knees, his knuckles wrapped tight around its leather-bound handle.

They would be coming for him. It was only a matter of when. He had wanted to do this alone, but he couldn’t abandon Dyus again and he was sure Dyus wouldn’t let him anyway.

A sigh escaped his lips. He was already starting to miss the luxury of his home… and- _No, that was it._

The snap of a twig. The rustle of branches. Immediately, Jyggalag rose, his stance switching to a defensive one. Behind him he heard Dyus move similarly, though the pot lid and small dagger did little to ease his worry.

A head popped up past the brush. The mess of dark-brown hair almost welcome if Jyggalag hadn’t already been on edge.

“Rowan?!”

“There you are!!” The Nord sounded relieved. He looked like he had been looking for a while: sweat beading his brow despite the mild chill. “I was worried sick.”

“Sorry…”

_Jyggalag wanted to believe his eyes… But…_

“Then why don’t you come here and comfort me, L _ove…_ ” As the sugared word left his lips, he watched the Nord with narrowed eyes, expecting the usual shudder.

There wasn’t one.

“Of course… Come here _L_ _o-”_ The imposter never got to finish. His head was severed from his shoulders in an impossibly clean line. The body collapsed and the illusion dissolved with the life leaving the lesser Daedra’s body.

Jyggalag flicked his blade, slinging the crimson blood from his sword. He imagined it would have been far harder had one approached wearing Rowi’s face, and the thought alone made him furious.

“Don’t any of you dare to use his face again! None of you could ever compare to that… _insufferable pest_!!!” The growl was out of his throat before he could stop himself, but it seemed enough that none of the others tried it. In that aspect, he was grateful – not that it stopped them from coming entirely.

It wasn’t long before he was panting, exhaustion already rearing its ugly. _Already?_ He had severely underestimated how weak he had allowed himself to get. Two weeks hadn’t been enough to recover, especially against his inhumane foes.

 _Will you miss me?_ For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he had been thinking about Moralove or… Rowan…

****

His sword bit through the last of Daedric armor, his enemies no more than a pile of corpses around him. He could hardly breathe, and his heart was busy contracting spastically as sweat ran abundant down his back.

He wiped a hand over his nose, finding the injury across his face still hadn’t healed.

_But it was done. The battle won._

A barbed tail suddenly striking his middle said otherwise.

Jyggalag’s eyes widened with the blow, the wind knocked from his lungs as he was sent flying. He landed aside Dyus who had collapsed earlier from their fight.

It pained him more to see his faithful servant like that, than his own injuries. _This had been his fault… He should have…_

“Hello,” came Molag Bal’s booming voice. The Daedric Prince raised a monstrously huge, clawed foot, bringing it down across Jyggalag’s body to keep him pinned – not that he had the energy to move anymore. “It’s a _pleasure_ to see you again Jyggachou…”

“Can’t say the same,” Jyggalag wheezed with the increasing pressure as Molag Bal leaned onto him.

“Awww... And here I even brought a little gift. A little something from Sanguine, in exchange for a _ride_.”  

A figure stepped forward, draped in Molag Bal’s colors; a bottle of sorts held in hand. At their current distance Jyggalag couldn’t tell its contents, but it wasn’t hard to guess that it wasn’t something to look forward to.

“Ah,” Jyggalag said, his poker face sliding into place as his mind repeated a mantra. _Stay Calm. Stay Calm. Sta…_ The silver glow off the twin moon’s glinted off the green glass, its label illuminated for an instant to reveal one of Sanguine’s less desirable concoctions – that of gender transformation. A crack formed in his otherwise perfect guise of indifference, and he snapped his mouth shut as Molag Bal’s follower stepped closer.

Fingers clamped around his nose, cutting off his airflow.

“Just a sip to please me… Come on.”

_Not for you… Never for you…_

But, there was only so long he could hold his breath, and after a few minutes, he needed air.

The bottle was forced to his lips, its contents splashing the back of his throat. He coughed and sputtered to try and expel the sweet liquid, but it had been too late. Jyggalag could feel his form shifting.

“Noo…” he protested weakly under Molag Bal’s leering, ice-white gaze.

“Hooo?! So you can look cute…” The giant seemed pleasantly surprised with Jyggalag’s new appearance; more specifically with Jyggalag’s inflated chest and widened hips. Jyggalag felt nothing but disgust. “But you must feel so tight in those clothes. Let me help you out…”

“Bastard,” Jyggalag said, but there was nothing he could do to stop the black claw slip under his waistband. It continued up his softened belly to pop out at his collar. With a lifting curl of the clawed finger, Jyggalag’s shirt was split open; his front forcibly bared to the barbaric Daedric Prince.

There came a deep, throaty chuckle. “Better. Now…” The claw returned to tap briefly below his chin before trailing a beading silver line down his torso to stop at his belt.

“Moralove will make you pay.”

“Moralove? Moralove… Moralove… Mora-” A cruel laugh ripped through the air as the Daedric Prince came to realize who Jyggalag was referring to. “He can’t do a thing. Not even find the gall to mark you, the silly octopus!!! You’re-”

“MINE!!” roared a voice from behind Molag Bal, the owner’s colossal furred face pushing past the treetops. Branches broke as Rowan stalked forward; horns and teeth gleaming in the moonlight, striped fur bristling all down his back.

Jyggalag would have been lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little relieved to see the Dragon out in full glory – remnants of his magic incorporated into the Dragon’s own, manifested as jagged black stone protruding from massive shoulder blades.

Molag Bal didn’t share the same sentiments over Jyggalag’s potential rescue. “Hermaeus Mora’s pet?!”

Rowan growled, his tail breaking a tree as it thrashed out. Claws digging deep trenches, the beast pulled into a low crouch then pounced, those same deadly claws fully extended.

Not wanting to be turned into a giant, blue pincushion, Molag Bal dodged.

Unable to stop his forward momentum, the Dragon crashed into the ground, stopping just short of where Jyggalag was laying.

“Oops. Uh, hi… Brit Kulaas.” It was odd hearing Rowan’s voice coming from the large furred muzzle, and the deep following rumble had him blushing.

Jyggalag sat up, his white hair sliding to cover his breasts. “You… you should be watching your opponent,” he felt more than a little obligated to point out to the distracted beast.

The Dragon turned, but was too late to avoid the tree-sized mace swinging into the side of his head.

“Rowan!” The exclamation slipped from Jyggalag’s mouth before he could stop it as the Dragon was knocked away. A nearby tree became yet another casualty as Rowan smacked into its trunk and toppled it. It wasn’t safe to stay where he was. Jyggalag had to make some distance. He hefted the unconscious Dyus onto his thinner shoulders. “Come on. We need to move.”

The ground quaked and the trees shook around them as the two giants battled. There was a sharp crack and an ensuing howl as Molag Bal snapped Rowan’s tail. “Where in Oblivion are you Moralove!?!” Jyggalag’s footing wobbled, but he kept moving. If he didn’t, Dyus and himself would likely be crushed underfoot. “His eye is uncovered!!”

* * *

Mora clasped his head in his hands. He had just finished properly sealing Jyggalag’s gateway and another problem decided to rear its ugly head. “Molag?! Damn. Damn… Damn!!!” Mora might be among the oldest of the Daedric Princes, but he was far from the strongest… and against Molag Bal... He worried his thumbnail between his teeth.

_He wasn’t strong enough to send Molag Bal back to Oblivion on his own…_

Through Rowan’s gifted eye, the Daedric Prince watched the battle unfold, the destruction they wrought. Everything was being destroyed. Birds’ nests, squirrel- An idea springing to mind, had him clapping his hands. “Of course! I can try _that._ ” Admittedly, it was getting a little desperate, but he opened a portal to Sheogorath’s realm regardless. “Hopefully I can still sing that particular tune…”

* * *

A head-butt to the chin knocked Molag Bal back, but it hardly did more than piss him off. He raised the mace to block the Dragon’s next swipes of its claws, successfully holding him off.

“Rowan…” From their distant hiding spot, Jyggalag couldn’t help being more than a little worried for the beast.

“My Prince.”

Jyggalag reacted almost immediately, turning to where he had propped Dyus up against a tree trunk. “Dyus. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but you…”

“I’m fine.” Jyggalag hugged himself, just starting to feel the chill as his heart rate slowed down. They wouldn’t have been in this situation if Jyggalag had been more rational about everything. “Sorry Dyus… Looks like my head is as empty as my power supply…”

“No need for apologies, Master. I’m glad to be still of some use to you.” Dyus picked up on his hesitance. “My Prince…?”

“Yes?”

“You were never a burden to me, and… you’ll never be. I am so happy to have met you then during my novice years.”

* * *

He had only been working in the Grand Library for a few weeks, but he didn’t recognize the ashen stranger wandering its aisles.

The silver-haired mer casually pulls a tome to strange diseases, and starts flipping through its pages.

Dyus hesitates, knowing that it was his duty to his Daedric Lord, Jyggalag, to protect the ancient texts contained within the library. “Can I help you, Mister…?” The young man pauses hoping to get a name from the stranger.

Raising a brow, the stranger looks up from the book in his hands. “Jyggalag.”

_Oh no. How could he make such an amateurish mistake?_

Before he could pull himself back together, he finds himself fainting.

_Damn his weak constitution…_

“Hey!”

Dyus snaps out of it, putting his focus on the voice that called to him. Immediately, he falls to his knees, bowing as deep as he could to his Daedric Prince. “I’m immensely sorry, my Lord.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t seen your face around here before. I imagine you are the novice prodigy everyone has been talking about. What is your name?”

“Dyus! Dyus of Mytheria, my Prince!” He keeps his eyes respectfully on the ground, but he couldn’t help feeling a little ecstatic over his Prince asking for _his_ name and risks a glance up only to find Lord Jyggalag gesturing for him to rise.

“Dyus, then. Maybe you can help me solve something…”

“Of course, my Lord!”

Placing the book he had been studying back on the self, his Lord begins his tale of woe.

“My Prince… From what you told me…” He bows his head as he presses his pointer fingers together. “I may have a suggestion.”

“Already?” his Daedric Prince asks in interest.

Dyus offers another curt bow and pulls a very different book from the shelf. Its cover reads ‘Love and You’.

His Lord looks quite sceptical. “Would this be a joke?”

For a moment, Dyus thought he had miss-stepped. He bows deeply. “I would never dare, my Prince!”

Lord Jyggalag takes the book from him, and contemplates its weight in his hands.

_That day, I knew the Daedric Prince of Order’s heart… was closer to sweet cream than the steel he was so proud of…_

“Oh well, why not? Thank-you for your help.” He stops as he was struck by a thought. “Oh, Dyus?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll slice you into tiny pieces.”

_But, that didn’t stop the intimidation I felt…_

“Y-yes!” This time, he doesn't stop himself from passing out.

****

“Dyus!”

The sudden loud voice of his Prince causes him to go into a panic, and he scatters the stack of books he had been carrying. “I haven’t said anything!”

Lord Jyggalag ignores his outburst. It obviously wasn’t why he came - especially when Dyus is suddenly hugged tightly. “He said ‘yes’!!!”

Dyus is taken aback. “What?! Wh-who?!”

“Moramour! We’re mates!”

While he hasn’t been there long enough to know his Lord’s usual expressions, Dyus was near positive the bright smile he is getting is near inconceivable. “C…Congratulations.” He prays he won’t be killed later. “So, that means you confessed your feelings?”

His Prince immediately froze up. “I’ll need your help, Dyus…”

A hand came up and clamped down on Dyus’ shoulder, and a jolt went up his spine. “Huh!? Of course!”

“I’m counting on you Dyus!” As quick as he had entered, Lord Jyggalag was already leaving, but not before shouting a startling revelation back over his shoulder. “Oh by the way, you’re my new chamberlain!”

****

_It had been facinating to watch how his Prince had changed over the years, and looking back, Dyus was certain it was for the better._

The tree he had been resting against shook roughly with the loud crash, Master Felborne lay prone on the ground. He was breathing heavy, and a new wound had been opened up over his blue eye. It wasn’t looking good for him, though the same could almost be said of his opponent, Molag Bal, who had just barely managed to remain standing, panting in a similar injured state.

His Prince’s focus was completely on the large fallen Dragon. “Rowan!!!”

“Just go to him,” he urged, knowing Lord Jyggalag wouldn’t make the decision without a little help.

Lord Jyggalag hesitated for only a second, before rising and rushing to Master Felborne. “Y-you’re right! Rowan!!”

The sight of his Prince running with only concern for the wounded Dragon, put a small smile to his lips. _It continued to thrill him watching how his Prince grew emotionally._

* * *

“Rowan!” He came to kneel in front of the fallen beast, ignoring how his loose fitting pants tried to slip from his rounded hips.

“Kuuullaaasss,” whined Rowan. “You did it again…”

“I’m… sorry,” Jyggalag said, surprisingly enough meaning the apology as he reached out to pet Rowan’s large snout. _Rowan wouldn’t be in this state, if it hadn’t been for him._

A gravelly rumble interrupted the moment between them. “How good of you to finally join us, Jyggalag. How about a nice fat lollipop for you to suck…?”

Jyggalag immediately shifted his self-loathing onto the other Daedric Prince. _Rowan wouldn’t have to have come to rescue him, if it hadn’t been for Molag Bal._ “You!!” He could feel the rage boiling beneath his skin, but Rowan had risen in his stead.

“Unworthy…” the Dragon growled, despite weakness shaking its limbs.

But Molag Bal was done with him, and his mace struck hard against the side of Rowan’s skull.

The exhausted Dragon was knocked away, to collapse finally defeated. “Rowan!” Rowan wasn’t moving beyond his chest rising and falling with his rattling breath, and it didn’t look like he would be able to get up any time soon.

“You! You are coming with me!” howled Molag Bal as his eyes narrowed on Jyggalag. “I’ll be sure to let you scream as much as you wish later.”

Earlier Jyggalag may have been tempted to give up, to throw himself onto Molag Bal’s lack of mercy, but witnessing how far Dyus and Rowan would go for him… “You won’t lay a finger on me, Dirt!!” His hands went for the blade he kept hidden in his boot, and he had stabbed it into the other Daedric Prince’s hand without a second thought.

“Gaaaah!!” The hand retreated, unfortunately yanking his dagger away with it. “Slut!!” Molag Bal roared.

Jyggalag could feel his confidence grow as he offered a rude gesture, but the mace swinging for him had the grin slip from his face. _He wouldn’t be able to shrug off a blow of that magnitude._

A clang of metal on metal sounded far too close for comfort, and he turned to see what had happened.

Moralove had finally made it, his tendrils having hardened into a metal cage to protect Jyggalag from the blow that would have otherwise crushed him.

“Hermaeus Mora!”

His amorphous Amour-a crossed two tendrils under his largest yellow-green eye. “Pardon me for interrupting harassing _my_ Jyggalag.”

Jyggalag had to cover his blushing face with his hands. _Moramour had said ‘his’ Jyggalag…_

“You haven’t marked her!” Molag Bal swung his mace, but it was easy enough for Moralove to float out of range.

A few tendrils lashed out in retaliation. “I refuse to impose… Usually…” The last part had been mumbled, but Jyggalag still managed to catch it. Moralove was evidently still lamenting over his previous behavior.

“Nor destroooooy squirrels’ nests!” came a new voice.

“Squirrels?!” A cold sweat starting on his skin, Jyggalag glanced away from his hands. He recognized the voice, but it couldn’t be… It took him another few seconds to realize that he had returned to his male form. “At last!” Finally, something was going his way, though his relief was short lived when he glanced to where Rowan still lay. He hoped he was alright… _Wait… what was he thinking…? Why was he still worrying about the… Pest…?_

Before he could delve too far into his own thoughts, the cage was snatched up by an icy hand and he was thrown roughly against the oily, black bars.

“Hey!!” protested Mora as Molag Bal started his retreat with prize in hand.

“Sorry!” Molag Bal boomed back over his shoulder, knocking over a large tree as he continued running. Jyggalag could swear a squirrel let out a panicked chirp, as if he could still do something about the destruction to its home. “Gonna finish my meal at home!” His crashing footsteps were accompanied by his obnoxious laugh.

It continued for several more moments as Jyggalag was jostled relentlessly in his temporary prison, to end in a puff of bright purple and green butterflies.

Suddenly, he was falling and he could do nothing to stop it. Jyggalag tried to brace himself against the bars, but from the height he had been dropped at, it would hurt regardless. His eyes clamped closed.

There was another jolt, but not the crushing force that would have broken at least his legs. He had been caught by Mora, moments away from hitting the ground.

“Nice catch! Truly a big fish!” announced Sheogorath, far too close to either him or Moramour for his liking.

_He could at least try to do something about it._

“Moramour…?”

“Yeeeess?” asked Moralove hesitantly.

“Let me out!!” Jyggalag yanked on the bars, shaking the cage slightly in Moralove’s grasp.

“Yes, Love!!”

Within seconds, the bars had peeled away, and Moralove was wearing his preferred lesser form.

Sheogorath gave a short appreciative whistle. “Hey, Queeny. Our people are safe now.” A squirrel rubbed appreciatively against his cheek before running off into what remained of the surrounding woods.

A blush rose on Moralove’s cheeks and a growl bubbled in Jyggalag’s throat. “Qu-Queeny…” Moralove stuttered, pushing his forefingers together.

“Let’s celebrate our victory toge-”

Fortunately, his Amour-a shut the idiot down quickly. “Not today.” _…though ‘today’ implied an eventuality._

Jyggalag needed to make a few things clear, and lifted the idiot by his tacky doublet’s front. “Not ‘today’! Not EVER!”

“Foxy,” acknowledged Sheogorath. “You had quite the booty as a ‘Princess’.”

The disgusting smirk that slid onto his face, had Jyggalag recoiling and he quickly released the idiot to wipe his hands off on his pants.

Short barks of laughter broke the silence as Sheogorath turned to leave. It looked like he wasn’t about to pursue anything else today. “I’ll be paying a long visit to the stinky fishy. Take care of your giant squirrel! See you, my pretties.”

“Giant… Squirrel…?” Moralove murmured to himself.

Jyggalag figured it would be better to let his Amour-a figure it out on his own as he started the walk towards where Rowan was.

“Rowan!!” exclaimed Moralove a few seconds later, having finally put things together.

_Slow as ever… But, that was one of the many things he loved about his Amour-a. It had a certain adorable charm to it._

He never got the chance before, but seeing Rowan this close up… _well, the Dragon was impressive at least._ “Can’t say that you didn’t have the balls to attack Molag Bal…” When he reached the Dragon’s massive head, he offered a few light pats to its brow, careful of the injury across its forehead. “You fought well.”

A tendril reached up beside him, flipping the gold earring. The embossed eye closed, and Rowan shrank back into his usual form – the Dragon’s influence subdued until it was needed again.

Jyggalag gathered up the wounded Nord and offered the battered body to Moralove. “Bring him home…”

Hesitantly, his Amour-a took Rowan from him. “And you? Are you still mad at me, Love?”

“No. Not anymore.” At this point, Moralove had easily redeemed himself. “But, I can’t leave Dyus behind. And I don’t think he could handle going through a portal right now.”

“I… see…”

The dejection on Moralove’s face was just adorable, and Jyggalag couldn’t help the smirk on his face. “I’ll see you soon!” He leaned in and planted a kiss to the corner of his Amour-a’s lips.

In a flustered rush, Moralove retreated into a vortex of swirling greens, dragging the unconscious Rowan with him. Jyggalag waved, knowing he wouldn’t be seeing either for a while.

“Dyus!” His servant seemed to be healing still, but Dyus was looking better than he had been.

“Master! Where are were heading?”

“Where?! Home of course!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahmul: Husband  
> Sil Deinmaar: Soul Keeper  
> Deinmaar do dii Sil: Keeper of my Soul  
> Motmahus: Trickster/Tricky  
> Ko Praan Vahdin: Within Resting Maiden  
> Kulaas: Princess  
> Qahnaarin: Vanquisher
> 
> I promise I haven't abandoned the main story... just been getting distracted ^^"  
> Very, very distracted ^^"


	16. Beauty and the Beasts Pt. 2 [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things went unsaid. It's time that they come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Female Dragonborn/Jyggalag, Male Dragonborn/Jyggalag, gender swapping, gender transformation, Dyus
> 
> Bam. Sequel. Thanks Skit. XD

“I’m fine now!!”

Rowan’s voice echoed across Apocrypha, startling a nearby Watcher. The floating eye snuck away, not wanting to get caught up in another fight between its Master and his champion.

“Mora… It’s been three days already!” Mora’s tendrils slunk up Rowan’s naked form, inspecting every inch of his body and desperately trying to find some injury still remaining to use as an excuse to keep him in the Daedric Prince’s realm.

“You neeverrrr know with Molag…”

Rowan offered a few short pats to Mora’s back as the Daedric Prince came in for a hug, but he refused to be swayed… _again._ He had been perfectly healthy after the first day. “Mora…” he warned.

The tendrils retreated, finding nothing their Master could argue further with. Sulking slightly, Mora spoke. “Very well…”

****

Rowan was returned to the sweltering heat of Skyrim’s summer, dressed in heavy furs and cumbersome weaponry.

Mora had been more than reluctant to let him leave without some kind of _‘protection’_.

As he retreated into his home to change out of the weather-inappropriate clothes, his eye darted over his neighbor’s mansion.

_He should probably go check on how Jyggalag was…_

****

Trying to make his entrance as obnoxious as possible, he threw his full strength into sliding the door open and loudly announced, “I’m back!!! Jygga…lag?” Rowan’s voice trailed off quickly when he was greeted with nothing but black shadows. “He came back here, right?”

Rowan ran through the house, throwing open doors in his wake as he grew increasingly worried.

The bedroom? _No._

The gateway? _No._ It was still sealed. Mora had been sure to do a thorough job.

The bath? _Another big fat no._

 _Where are you?_ There was just so many Oblivion damned rooms.

Feeling less hopeful, he tried Jyggalag’s pond, the artificial sun warming the air and glinting brightly off the soft ripples. _A start… maybe._ Rowan traipsed further in, nearly afraid of disturbing the established tranquility.

_If Jyggalag wasn’t here, then…_

Rowan stopped; finding the Daedra in question sprawled out on the lush grass. His head propped up on a short log, the sun adding a healthy glow to his overly exposed silver skin… And, a knife left just within arms-reach.

It took a few seconds for Rowan’s brain to catch up with the sight, a light blush touching his cheeks. He turned away and coughed, hoping that the Daedra would fix his robe.

He didn't. Instead, Jyggalag simply acknowledged Rowan's presence with an uttered, “I’m surprised Moralove let you leave so soon.”

“I was worried…” Rowan started, and quickly realizing how it might sound, he tacked on a, “about Squid!” as he turned back to the reclining Daedra.

Jyggalag hummed and rolled to his side, his robe sliding to at least cover his lower member.

“S… Seriously, what are you doing sprawled out like that anyway?”

“Sunbathing. By the way, I made sure to have fed your pet in your absence.”

As if on cue, the small blobbish creature crawled from where it had been snoozing, and floated up to Rowan’s hands with a happy chirp. He nuzzled the creature, genuinely happy to see Squid again after the three days he had been away. “Thanks!”

The following silence was deafening. The smile from seeing Squid again faltered. _No reaction… no ‘get out’… nothing… Just Jyggalag’s usual poker face…_

* * *

Jyggalag’s eye twitched as his emotions battled the barrier of his self-control. The most prominent, his anger at the Pest’s continued scent and some new ailment that simply adored Rowan’s smile, proved to be at a standstill. His expression ultimately remained ultimately untouched by either. _For now..._

“Hey… ummm… where is Dyus? I haven’t seen him around.”

“Out.” It was becoming amply clear why his servant was suddenly overcome with the desire to go to market.

“Ah. Did you eat?”

It wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t eaten; his answer would still be the same. “Of course.” There would be no way that he was going to try any more of Rowan’s horrendous cooking.

“What were you doing for three days?”

“Nothing…” He glanced sheepishly away, his movements, fortunately, going unnoticed as the Nord was temporarily focused on the purring rumbles his pet was making. Less fortunate, was the timing of his servant’s return.

“Master! I found you books about female genitalia, sexual pacing, and-”

He glared at the small man. “Leave now!”

“Yes, Master!” As he watched his servant hastily depart, Jyggalag was certain Dyus’ interruption had been planned.

The Nord was now grinning ear to obnoxious ear. “Nothing? Reaaaallly???”

Not wanting to deal with the ensuing teasing, Jyggalag turned away.

“Jyggalag?” There was a soft touch to his shoulder.

He smacked the hand away. “Don’t mock me! I’m merely seeking solutions!”

“For?”

“Don’t play dumb! As long as my other, ugly self is still v-” Jyggalag sighed, and his eyes turned downcast. “They’ll continue to swarm me. Like… insects.”

“Wow!”

 _Wow?_ That was all Rowan had to say? He looked up, finding that the Nord wasn’t even paying attention. Rather, Rowan was already nose-deep in one of the books Dyus had dropped off.

“So, you want to fix this yourself… Why not just ask Mora?” Rowan flipped another page, not noticing Jyggalag creeping closer with dagger in hand.

He took the opportunity to strike.

The Nord dodged with a chuckled whoops, catching Jyggalag as he soared past. “Not even Mora?” Jyggalag twisted and held the dagger pointed at Rowan’s throat to keep some distance, but for once his hold was shaky.

“No… Not even Amour-a.”

“I see… So, you’re scared!”

 _Scared?!_ “I’m not!”

“You are!”

Sanguine’s ring caught his eye, and his argument died as his brain went into full panic. Before he knew it, he had backed up several feet; stopped only by the trunk of a large tree.

“Not scared, huh?”

At this point, the single blade of steel felt like a very weak defense. “Just you try…”

Instead, Rowan’s finger curled around the ring’s thorns, pricking on the sharp metal. “Don’t worry. I’ll never force you.”

Announcing her presence with a, “Tada!” Rowi sat cross-legged in Rowan’s spot.

“Rowi!” Jyggalag could feel himself relax almost immediately and allowed her to approach.

“Now we can talk. You’re safe with me.”

_Why was it always so easy to slip into her rhythm? Why was he so at ease with her when he knew Rowi and Rowan were the same person…?_

Rowi sensed his inner turmoil, not necessarily guessing his worry correctly. “It’s not like I can…” She gestured crudely with her fingers.

Jyggalag was still hesitant.

“Come on! Show meeeee!” She moved right up to his face, their noses touching. Her earring wiggled with her shared excitement.

He leaned away. “No.” When he glanced back, she was staring even more insistently.

“Pleeeease, Jyggy?”

 _Why was she so…?_ He could feel his resolve crumbling.

All it took was one more push. A hand caressing the underside of his jaw. “It’s just you and me…”

His head knocked back against the tree trunk, and with a sigh on his lips he relented. “Fine. Just... don’t laugh.”

His body slumped forward as his mind was temporarily occupied on changing his form. His hair had draped over his face, and Rowi brushed it away with her fingers.

“Jygg?”

He looked up when she called his name, already dreading the taunts for looking so… weak.

What he got was something entirely different.

“How is that being ‘ugly’?!” she shouted.

“How?!” _How could Rowi not see it?!?_ “I’m so weak… And these breasts… they are too soft, too sensitive. And, and… my mind…” He let out a slightly frustrated huff.

“Soooo… this isn’t considered attractive? Daedra are turned on purely by physical strength?” Rowi raised a brow, not understanding Jyggalag’s plight.

“Or, strong magika… or prowess in a particular skill; skills preferably…” It was embarrassing having to explain it, and it didn’t help he was already starting to feel emotional. “All I have left… is my mind, but as a woman…” A sob escaped his lips. He continued to wait for the ridicule.

* * *

“Cute…” Rowan was blushing hard. Seeing Jyggalag so vulnerable, despite… _his… her?_ claims otherwise was just simply adorable. _How could she not indulge herself a little?_ Her instincts thought as much anyway as she suddenly found herself kissing the Daedra.

They separated, and the first thing was Jyggalag complaining again. “I’m not!”

“Oh, yes you are.” She placed a few more kisses to his neck and jaw, relishing in the flush she brought to Jyggalag’s cheeks.

“Rowi… Stop…” Jyggalag’s complaint was hardly convincing, especially when she didn’t move away.

“You are just so cute to Mora and me; both as a man and a woman.” Rowan stopped for a moment to fully enjoy the Daedra’s blush. “I bet you could get all the ladies in your full glory… Men too of course, considering...”

“Huh… Oh… Well…”

“Ho. Come on! How many?” Rowan was more than a little interested in Jyggalag’s past. Mora was a given, but Jyggalag had implied it was only as a man before. “You have laid women before, right?”

The hesitation was strange to see from the Daedra. “M…Mora that one time, and… you…”

“Seriously? You mean I was close when I teased you about being a virgin?”

Rowan didn’t need a response to get her answer; Jyggalag’s blue-flushed face was answer enough.

“About that time…” Jyggalag started, shame tainting her expression. “I’m sorry.”

Cocking her head to the side, Rowan asked, “Why?”

Jyggalag sighed. “I speared you without asking if you were… I must have hurt you, right?”

“Huh?” It took a few moments before Rowan could figure out what the Daedra was trying to talk about. When it finally occurred to Rowan, she waved Jyggalag’s worry away. “Ha. No. Don’t worry about that. I wasn’t… you know… when you ‘speared’ me.”

“Really?” The Daedra looked relieved, and an interest replaced the earlier guilt. Rowan could have sworn Jyggalag’s ears were wiggling viciously up and down like an excited dog’s tail, but she refused to ask him about it. “So… how was your first time? Was Mora good…?”

 _Ohhhhhhh…_ Rowan wasn’t sure how to answer that. Mora hadn’t been her first. In fact, Mora hadn’t been _his_ first either. Sanguine had. Both times. Accidently.

“Rowi…?” Jyggalag sounded concerned, and it was Rowan’s turn to feel guilty.

She really didn’t want to share, but… there was a reason Jyggalag was asking. The Daedra was worried about her own first, and what would happen.

“Rowi…?” repeated Jyggalag with just a little more of a tremble to her voice. “Was it…? Oh no…”

Rowan could see the panic building behind those dark eyes, and could only imagine the scenarios running rampant in Jyggalag’s head.

She had to somehow stop those thoughts before any permanent damage was done. “No… It was nothing like what you are thinking,” she said with a sigh. “But it definitely would have been nicer if it had been Mora…”

Jyggalag latched onto her words. “Then? Who dared...?!”

“Huh? Well…”

“Sanguine is the only other that knows… then that means...” _Was the Daedra angry or…?_ “I did something bad again,” Jyggalag wailed.

Rowan was not prepared for the following tears and gave the Daedra a slight shake. “Stop crying, or I’ll cry too!”

Her request did nothing but instigate a new bout of fat tears rolling down Jyggalag’s rounded cheeks. “I can’t stop… I’m just so sorry Rowi… about everything!!!”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“Are you sure?” sniffed Jyggalag cautiously.

“Yes, but you’re gonna have to stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Being so cute!” Rowan pulled the Daedra into a tight embrace. “I can’t resist.”

“Rowi?”

“Would… would you allow me to teach you to like that body?” Rowan had to admit to herself, she had a little more of an alternative motive. _She wanted to see more._ “Do you trust me, Jygg?”

The Daedra was hesitant, her hand clenching over her heart. Some sort of decision was made and Jyggalag spoke with a blush. “Y...Yes.”

“Thank-you.” Rowan tipped the Daedra’s head to capture those plush lips as her hands trailed over the edges of Jyggalag’s robe to reveal her ample chest. “I’m a bit jealous,” Rowan stated flatly, cradling one breast in each hand. In reality, Rowan shouldn’t be, but as her eye darted between her rather flat chest and Jyggalag’s far more endowed body, she definitely was.

“Y...You don’t have to… I prefer yours.”

Only half listening, Rowan hummed and thumbed over the Daedra’s perky nipples.

* * *

“Haaah…” Jyggalag moaned. “S...stop…” Not that he actually wanted her to.

“You’re so sensitive,” Rowi mused. Jyggalag could feel himself throb under Rowi’s ministrations, and he slid down from where he had been propped up against the tree. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. Remember how huge Mora’s were?” Rowan chuckled as she pinched one nipple.

_Mora’s? Oh, that time…_

Rowi had been referring back to their brief escapade in Sheogorath’s realm, where Mora had revealed his other… more thoroughly generous female form. It didn’t help either that at the time that Rowi had her head draped over those melon-sized breasts, her scent inflamed with passion. The memory alone was enough to cause Jyggalag’s loins to twitch with unfamiliar want.

“Ahhh… That certainly was something.” Drool at the memory traced the corner of his lip, and Jyggalag barely registered Rowi calling his name. He did, however, catch the light tap to his knee. It was then that he realized how spread his legs were, and how Rowi’s interest seemed to lay with what remained hidden between them.

“Can I?”

“Huh!? You mean..!” He could feel the blush spreading from his cheeks to the rest of his face. Jyggalag wasn’t sure if he was ready for the next step yet. “Well…”

“Trust me. I won’t do anything without your consent.” Her breath was whisper close, ghosting over his lips.

“Rowi…” Her boldness was shocking, and for a moment Jyggalag was worried she would suddenly behave like Moralove had. But, when he paused to search for that same crazed look, he found not even a trace. “Fine…”

Slowly he tugged his yukata from his thin shoulders, to eventually undress completely.

He remained unsure as he stood, especially when Rowi remained quiet. “I’m ugly, right?”

The resounding disagreement should have been expected at this point, but it was startling nonetheless. “You’re fucking gorgeous! A true goddess.” As she leaned closer, Rowi's earring rattling made it clear there was some draconic influence at play. “I bet not a single person wouldn’t like to be stepped on by you.”

“St...Stepped on?!” He thought Rowi had crawled a little too close for comfort.

Her lips trailed over the entrance to his heat. “Ohh… You smell so nice.”

“Ro-” Jyggalag’s voice was cut off as Rowi’s hot tongue slipped between his folds. “Haaaan…” All Jyggalag could do was hold onto the tree for support. He was certain his legs would give out at any second.

_Every second of it was strange, but all so good._

“Do you want me to stop?”

Jyggalag glanced down, all too embarrassed about what his next words would be. “N… No… Don’t.” He could feel the upward turn of her lips against his heated skin as she resumed, her hands climbing higher up his thighs to better brace her motions.

A moments notice later and he could feel himself coming, the shock stealing his voice and sending him crashing back into the ground. He laying sprawled and panting as Rowi stripped from her baggy clothes.

“Damn… I’m so needy right now…” he heard Rowi mutter under her breath.

“Rowi…” _He could smell Rowi’s intoxicating scent, but he was still a little too weak to do anything about it._ Fortunately, it seemed like Rowi was going to indulge herself anyway.

She crawled over him, her heat rubbing against his bent knee and her fingers traveling up his inner thigh towards his sensitive place. She left a few weak bites along his hips before her tongue trailed higher, his back arching to encourage her provocative behavior.

“Ahh. My goddess,” Rowi purred as she worked herself higher. Their inner heats were near touching, their entrances rubbing and grinding against each other.

But, it wasn’t enough. For either. Even as Rowi ground hard against his pelvis and moaned wantingly.

She nuzzled absentmindedly into Jyggalag’s throat. “I’m still so needy, but I don’t want you to transform yet.”

“Sorry…” An idea struck him then, something that wouldn’t be possible had he not been a Daedra - his gender undefined. “There is something I could try.”

“Really?!” Rowi sounded more than a little excited at the whatever Jyggalag was propositioning.

A little embarrassed, moved his hand over his sensitive area. “I just need to focus…” In the next instant, his cock sprung forth, yet the rest of him remained unchanged. “Now I can help you,” he whispered enticingly.

Rowi’s cheeks grew another shade darker at the sight, yet her eyes never left his hard length. “It looks so wicked…”

Jyggalag hummed in agreement. “Don’t tell Moralove.” He laid a kiss to her cheek, his expression turning imploring. “Can I?”

Nodding, she gave her own hesitant hum. “G-Go ahead.”

With her permission, Jyggalag slipped his length’s head past her moist entrance, it stretching agreeably to accommodate his girth. Her hands tightened around his shoulders and she bit her lip to stifle the moan his eased movement drew.

His hands tightened around her back, her buttocks. All to pull her in tighter. To feel her warmth against his body. He kissed her, his lips hungry for her as he pounded into Rowi’s tight heat.

An exchange of saliva as their tongues mingles; their moans and cries for each other falling into the rhythm of their writhing bodies. One final thrust drove Jyggalag deep into her core, her legs closing around his hips to trap him tight as she came. His member was squeezed in a rolling throb following her orgasm, and when the pressure grew too much, he came; his load shooting deep.

“Rowi…” Jyggalag had bitten through his lip, his desires struggling to break free from his control. _He couldn’t mark her… not until Mora had…_ His cock continued to pulse and throb as it slowly softened. He pulled out of her exhausted and so very satisfied.

“That… that was amazing…” Rowi panted, her face flushed a dark hue.

“Really?”

Rowi hummed tugging up his kimono they had begun sharing as a blanket. “That skill of yours is to be feared.”

He chuckled. “Let’s not give any bad ideas to Moralove, hmmm?”

It was Rowi’s turn to laugh. “That’s still really impressive though… Daedra having both…” She kissed his cheek.

“Well, actually usually we have none,” Jyggalag sheepishly admitted.

“None!?”

“I had none before… well…” He wasn’t exactly sure where to begin but knew that he should at least try.

****

“What do you mean ‘sex with Mora’?” He was more than little curious after hearing Dyus bring it up… though less willing to try asking others.

Dyus had proven loyal… albeit of a weak constitution and a victim of fainting spells should the man get too excited. Jyggalag, however, could trust no other with his deepest secrets, nor consult any other in such matters.

“So you’ve neither had… sex with Master Hermaeus Mora, nor ‘bitten’ him?”

“I can’t go fast with him, Dyus. But please, explain that sex thing to me. I am intrigued.”

_It was easy to see when my questions stepped bounds as to what Dyus was comfortable sharing…_

Dyus scratches his cheek, as his mind starts turning. “Huh… Well… You do have genitals between your legs, no?”

_His question was puzzling. Up to that point, there had been no need. After all, those organs weren’t required for reproduction. For Daedra anyway._

“Negative,” corrects Jyggalag. “There is nothing.” He lifts the hem of his robe to show the smooth surface to his servant.

His servant isn’t prepared and promptly passes out from the shock.

“Hey! Don’t die!”

_Oh, well..._

His servant roused a few minutes later. Dyus, upon realizing what had happened, falls to his knees and began vigorously apologizing.

Jyggalag waves off his apology as no harm had come of the man fainting. “So, about that ‘sex’ thing…”

Dyus rises stiffly and promptly rushes off. He returns with a stack of books in his hands. “Let’s begin with this.” The man thrusts out his hands offering two books in particular: the topmost reading ‘breeding’, and the second reading ‘genders’.

He accepts them and begins leafing through the pages. His eyes widen and tighten with the knowledge contained within. “Genders… Copulation… I had no idea.” _Mortals were far more complex than he had first thought._

Beside him, Dyus ponders his own thoughts out loud. “We need to know Master Herma Mora’s gender…”

“How?” _That had been one topic that he feared trying to broach._

“Maybe asking…?”

“Of course! ‘Moralove could you show me your privates?’ Ridiculous.” _He really shouldn’t have been so dismissive, but…_

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine…”

Dyus was only minorly relieved. “No choice then. We should cover both genders just to be sure.”

Jyggalag sees the next two tombs Dyus pulls from the shelves and sighs.

“Oh, and…” his servant reaches up and grabs yet another book. This newest one reads ‘hormones’.

“This is is all for you Moralove,” he reminds himself as he starts in on the first book.

_I don’t think I need to tell you how trying out my female form went…_

“No good… I don’t even know why I am crying,” sobs Jyggalag, unused to the sudden flood of hormones his form has to contend with.

His servant stands nearby, hands outstretched and completely unsure how to console him. “Sorry, Master! Let’s- let’s forget about this one!”

But, the damage had been done.

Jyggalag cries into the floor as a sad lump, his knees apparently having turned to jelly.

“Master… On the bright side, male genitalia are versatile,” Dyus tries.

“Really?” sniffs Jyggalag.

“Of course,” Dyus assures him with a dazzling smile. “Even males can… fit together.”

The Daedric Lord sits up attentive, form instantly shifting back to something more comfortable… less emotional.

“I got exactly what you need to learn right here, Master.” Dyus holds out yet another book tentatively.

He takes it, immediately getting an information overload.

_There was a lot of work ahead of him…_

“What do you think?” He had accumulated all of his research together, and now he just needed a second opinion. “The shape should be perfect to… inseminate if he’s female. If otherwise, long and hard enough to…” From Dyus’ flush at his sketches, it must have at least an appealing appearance. It was clear he didn’t have to explain further.

_The next task was to put study into motion._

“No turning back!”

“Fight strong, Master!” encouraged Dyus.

****

“And, indeed there was no turning back after. But, I never had regrets. Moramour is worth everything.”

“Sounds like Dyus had to put up with a lot.”

“Indeed… He deserves something.”

Rowi nodded, but obviously had no clue as to what to do for Dyus. Fortunately, Jyggalag had already thought that far ahead.

“I’ve been thinking about something… two things actually. And, I’ll need you for them.”

“Oh? Umm, sure…” Rowi sounded a little unsure, but that hesitance was likely due to not knowing what she was agreeing to.

Jyggalag offered a small smile, then separated from Rowi’s side. “First thing... “ He stood and knelt in front of her. “For saving me from Molag Bal. You have my thanks.” He bowed, not feeling the usual disgust from such a humbling action.

When Jyggalag glanced up, Rowi was speechless. “You’re welcome.”

The following hug had been unexpected, however.

“Just don’t run off on your own like that again!”

“I… I promise.” And, he meant it.

“So, what’s that second thing?”

Rowi’s enthusiasm suddenly, made him a little cautious. The next step would be dangerous if Rowi- _Rowan_ got too riled. Avoiding eye contact, Jyggalag twiddled his fingers together. “I would like… you to turn back into a man…”

“And now?”

By the time Jyggalag turned his eyes back, Rowan was sitting in front of him.

Jyggalag reached up, hesitant fingers reaching out. “And this…” He flipped the pendant, its embossed eye snapping open with the motion.

Rowan’s eye widened in panic, his hand grabbing Jyggalag’s fingers tightly. “Why did you-?!” The Nord flinched as the Dragon pushed forward. Jyggalag’s hand was released as Rowan settled, his ears turning pointed as onyx horns poked through his dark-brown hair.

“There you are…”

“Kiim…” Rowan murmured, his once panicked expression softening.

“Not sure I want to know what that means…” He was starting to regret his decision almost immediately. Especially, when Rowan’s furred ear flicked as his slit-pupiled eye traveled over his transformed body with a new-found interest. One hand came up to cover his breasts, the other spread to cover his lower half. “Be nice… Please.”

His request went ignored as Rowan tackled him. “Brit Kiim!” the Dragon rumbled, rubbing up against Jyggalag’s face.

“R...Rowan!! Focus!!” Jyggalag attempted to push the eager beast back. “Or, I’ll turn back.”

The threat seemed to get Rowan’s attention as he let out a big whine, his uncovered eye turning teary as he withdrew.

“Good. Now sit.”

Surprisingly, Rowan listened, sitting back quietly.

“Ummm… Good boy.” Jyggalag couldn’t help noticing the slight tail wag following his praise.

“I want Kulaas to stay female…” Rowan mumbled as Jyggalag offered a few pets.

“I’ll stay if you behave well,” Jyggalag couldn’t help chuckling, as he accepted the minimal control his form seemed to give him over the Dragon. “You were a good boy last time too. But, right now I need your strength...”

Rowan leaned in deep. Far too deep. “Kiim means…”

The Dragon got a firm smack on the nose as Jyggalag directed Rowan’s face to the grass. “No!!! Not there!!” He continued pushing the Dragon back. “Moramour won the right to be here first! Remember?”

Rowan’s ears flicked back. “Yes Kiim. Ahmul won…”

Jyggalag figured it was a good time to bring up some other issues he had, now that the Dragon was actually listening. “By the way, promise me; no more ‘Kopraan Vahdin’, or I’ll never switch to a woman again!”

His ultimatum drew Rowan’s full attention. “I swear… on my Sil. But… my strength… How…?”

_Aaaand, the biggest problem comes to light._

“Well... there are still two other ways…” Jyggalag’s face flushes as the options come to mind.

“Huh?” Rowan asked dumbly. “I don’t see…”

He could feel himself blushing harder. “Don’t make me say it out loud…”

“Really Kiim… I don’t...”

“My mouth or asshole!”

The Dragon’s tail wagged out behind the lughead as his face lit up. “Ahhh! First on backdoor.”

 _Dumbass…_ Rowan’s tail curling around his ass had him startle slightly. _Wait… ‘First’?!_ Jyggalag had forgotten that his current form would be very unprepared. “Nevermind… m-maybe _another time!_ ” He rose quickly, stumbling to his feet as he turned to run.

Jyggalag made it all of five feet before Rowan’s surprisingly dexterous tail snatched an ankle, knocking him on his front. In an instinctual reaction, he switched back, much to the Dragon’s disappointment.

“Another day, Rowan!!!”

Rowan’s weight settled across his back, pinning him to the grass. “First on backdoor then… Promise?”

“P...Promise.” _He was so screwed…_ His plan obviously hadn’t been very well thought out. _Just think about Dyus. You’re doing this for him!_

The Dragon leaned in, sniffing his throat, his back. The muscular weight shifted on top of him, as a hand pressed him more firmly against the ground. “I’ll be soft today…”

“T-today!?” Jyggalag dreaded what waited for him in the near future. His fists clenched around the grass, as he risked a glance back over his shoulder.

The hand continued down his spine, two fingers jabbing roughly into his asshole to spread him wider.

A hiss escaped his lips. “I wouldn’t call that ‘soft’!”

Ignoring Jyggalag’s protest, Rowan’s fangs sank into his neck - igniting the cluster of sensitive nerves. Incoherent gibberish flowed from Jyggalag’s lips.

_Damned weak spot!_

“Ahmul likes that, huh?”

Jyggalag had bitten through his lip again. _Uggghhh… He was fighting his biology… Of course that felt good, but he wasn’t about to let Rowan know that._ “No…”

“Liar,” whispered Rowan as his tongue lapped at Jyggalag’s bonding site. “You’re so stiff… So pretty…”

Rowan lifting Jyggalag’s leg to show off his hard member, did nothing but reveal that Rowan had already managed to get balls-deep inside him; Jyggalag’s asshole spread farther than it should have been to accommodate the Dragon’s engorged length.

“W…When?!” he stuttered with the rocking bounce of Rowan’s hips.

Another nibble to his bonding site answered his question. It was hard to feel anything else when that spot was being so expertly exploited. “Ngh!”

“My Ahmul…”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” _Frankly, it was fairly embarrassing, especially now what he knew what it meant to the beast._

Rowan pulled his face around and laid a heated kiss to his lips. Something inside him snapped then, fueled by the giant cock rocking in and out of his body and the fading buzz on his bonding site.

His lust was freed from its heavy manacles.

The possessive growl started low and deep in his chest, rising until it reached his throat.

“Ahmul?”

He whirled on the beast, coming chest to chest to the Dragon. The pulsing length inside him jostling wonderfully against his prostate as he turned, his fangs lengthening in turn. “I’m not dominated yet, Beast!”

Rowan grew hesitant, his furred ears twitching to forward attention. “Nice fangs…”

“Not the only ones…” His hand went for the dagger beside him, and with an easy flick of his wrist, its tip touched lightly to Rowan’s chin.

Instinctively, the Dragon seemed to sense its enchantment and backed away enough that it was no longer touching skin. “Now, be a good boy…” Jyggalag pressed the blade closer, and Rowan tilted his head back farther - a subtle swallow the only other motion he dare make. “Get out of me.”

The Dragon obeyed, a blush touching his pale cheeks as his cock slipped free from Jyggalag’s hole, each barb-like ridge running along its underside momentarily catching on his stretched rim. “My fierce Ahmul…”

Jyggalag grinned, somehow the Dragon’s nickname for him more appealing with every passing second. “I need to teach you how to obey. How about we start with ‘down’.”

Using the enchanted blade, Jyggalag directed Rowan lower down his body, that adorably faithful head towards his crotch.

“Lower…” He could almost say he was feeling giddy. He could just feel Rowan’s lips around his cock. The smooth slide of that hot tongue up the side of his length. “There… Now, please me!”

_It was going so well…_

“Nice try...”

_What?!_

The Dragon took advantage of Jyggalag’s prone position, and used a Thu’um to knock the blade from his fingers. Rowan’s tail gripped his now-empty wrist and spun him such that his belly was facing the grass.

“Ahmul is still too weak...” Rowan raised Jyggalag’s rear and readied himself. His hips rocked forward with a harsh skin-on-skin slap, and Jyggalag was once again speared on the blunt head of Rowan’s cock, each ridge stretching and tugging him temporarily wider.

Jyggalag moaned, loud and shameful. Sense returning, he quickly stopped the sound with his free hand clamping over his mouth.

“Just accept that feeling Ahmul.” Rowan’s obnoxiously dexterous tail yanked and wrapped both hands behind his back. Those barb-like ridges dragged back over his hole, his insides, as Rowan pulled back then thrust forward again.

“It’s… It’s too big of a ‘feeling’ to get used to…” An inner turmoil ran through his head; a conflict between his lust and shame as humiliating sounds were drawn from him.

_The other Princes were right… He wasn’t better than a whore for power…_

“You okay?” Somehow Rowan had sensed the shift in mood.

“Of course!”

He groaned as Rowan sank deep in one final push, the ridges along his cock flaring to hold him tight. Rowan came shortly after. Hot, messy. Everything Jyggalag would normally hate, but couldn’t as he came similarly.

Satisfied and spent, the ridges retracted. Rowan was able to pull out, first leaving a little ‘gift’ on Jyggalag’s shoulder. A dovah rune freshly burned into his skin. Jyggalag wondered how long this one would last.

Feeling more than a little sleepy, Jyggalag nuzzled into Rowan’s fur, letting the Dragon’s odd, cooing purr wash over him as he was cuddled closer.

“Ahmul…?”

Jyggalag mumbled something incoherent in response.

“Ahmul is definitely not a whore,” huffed the Dragon.

Surprised by Rowan’s words, he peeked an eye open. The thought had been plaguing him constantly and he was certain he made no mention of it recently. Though, the assurance was more than enough for him.

“Ahmul is deserving of my strength…”

“Thank…you...” His face heated up, and he nuzzled in tighter to hide his blush.

“The sex is a nice treat though…”

_Wait…_

“What do you mean ‘treat’?”

The tail that was wrapped around him, shifted awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it.”

He _was_ going to worry about it, but later. He was too tired now.

****

“M…”

Jyggalag burrowed deeper underneath the warm, heavy weight draped over him, just barely aware of the whispered voice calling for him.

“M...ter.”

_Huh?_

“Master...”

“Nhuuuh?” He opened bleary eyes and looked over at his servant.

“It’s morning, Master,” Dyus whispered, earnest to not wake the fully transformed Dragon Jyggalag was nestled against.

“Already…?”

Dyus nodded.

Reluctantly, Jyggalag extracted himself from the comforting warmth and offered a few strokes along the large, furred snout snoring softly beside him. He reached up slowly and flipped the Dragon’s earring.

With the final swing of the medallion, Rowan’s lesser form returned.

“Fetch him a blanket. He’ll get cold.”

“Yes, Master.”

* * *

There was an unwanted tickle against his nose. He wiggled it away, but it returned to tickle again. The second time he sneezed, startling Squid who had been urging him awake.

Rowan sat up confused and mildly unsure of the events that had transpired the night before. Squid was less forthcoming with answers and settled into the crook of his lap where the blanket that was covering him had settled into a comfortable nest.

With some care, Rowan shuffled the blanket and sleepy creature away from his lap and stood up. A white robe had been placed aside, and he picked it up.

Shrugging the robe over his shoulders, he made for the door, stopping when an oddly familiar _young_ man standing on the side. It took a few moments as he blinked away his shock before he could say anything. “Dyus?!”

“Oh. I forgot you may have trouble recognizing me.” He bowed apologetically. “Have you slept well?”

Rowan could only point, his mouth agape.

“Master Jyggalag rejuvenated me. It is much easier to move around now,” he added with a small smile.

* * *

Jyggalag cradled the cup of after-breakfast tea in his hands, enjoying its pleasant fragrance as he took in the tranquil quiet of the morning.

Despite the events leading up to it, last night probably had been one of the best nights of sleep he had ever had since his acquisition of the need. _Maybe… just maybe he could allow Rowan to stay… Besides, the Dragon at least indicated that their sexual relationship wasn’t required for the exchange of power… He still wanted to understand that further..._

“Holy shit!!!”

The shout shattered his peace, and he splashed his hot tea across his lap in his shock. He stared at his soaked front for a few seconds before a familiar rage settled into his mind.

“Get out!!!” he returned, his roar deafening. “Dyus!!! Get him out of here!!!”

_Nevermind. Nothing was worth the daily disruption the Nord brought with him._


	17. Every Coin Has Two Sides [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes have dire consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Jyggalag/Male Dovahkiin, Jyggalag/Mephala, non-con, dub-con
> 
> Thanks again to Skita you get yet another chapter of Jyggalag chaos. To just think this started as a picture with a missing stripe xD

There was knocking at the door.  _ Very insistent knocking. _ Rowan cracked an eye open, and seeing that the moons were high in the sky, he closed it again.

Whatever it was, it was too early…  _ late?  _ to deal with. Seeing that Squid was of a similar mind, he went back to sleep.

_ … Or tried to. _

His front door came crashing in, landing somewhere near his dining room table.

Rowan was wide awake, his hand already moving for the glass dagger mounted on the wall beside his bed. “Hello?” he called cautiously from his spot on the second floor. He got no response save for the slow stepping of boots and the heavy drag of chains.

_ Whoever they were… they didn’t sound friendly. _

Rowan rounded the corner and crept downstairs.

His visitor stood alone in the dark, a long chain – glinting in the low light – was trailing behind him. The stranger looked much like Jyggalag: grey skin, silver hair, and dark almond-shaped eyes. But, he was dressed in far more black than Jyggalag typically wore and was missing the stripe of black in his hair.

A squeaky step betrayed Rowan’s position, and Not-Jyggalag’s attention snapped to where he had been crouched on the stairs.

“Ho,” said Not-Jyggalag. “You’rE cUte.”

“Uhhh… wha-?” Rowan’s own surprise cut him off as Not-Jyggalag closed the space between them. Startled, Rowan fell back into the staircase.

“I caMe follOWiNg The sceNt of HeRmaloVe, bUt yOu WiLL dO.” A graceful finger traced the underside of Rowan’s jaw, its touch followed by a clink of chain pulled by the slender wrist.

Glaring, he smacked the hand away. “Who are you?”

“And it HAs soMe biTE! FeISty.” The grin on Not-Jyggalag’s face was disturbing. “Is ThAt wHAt hE SeeS iN yOU…?”

_ W-? _

The thought didn’t even have time to form before he was knocked out; his head smashed against the stairs, the dagger falling from his loosened fingers.

* * *

“Master?”

“Yes, Dyus?” Jyggalag looked up from his cup of tea, though still continued his sipping.

“Master Hermaeus Mora put in an inquiry as to what you were up to with Master Felborne last night?”

“Last night? With the Pest?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Dyus, I was asleep, as I have become accustomed to every night. Surely you would know that?”

“Normally yes, Master. But, in an attempt to answer Master Hermaeus Mora’s question I… pried, and it appeared that you… were both awake and asleep…”

_ It couldn’t be… _

Puzzled, Jyggalag set the ceramic cup down. His expression remained level, but a certain worry had crept into his mind. “Are you absolutely positive?”

“Yes, Master. I triple checked. I didn’t want to disturb you with this, had it been something trivial.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “And? What of Moralove?”

“I assured him that it was nothing sinister, but…”

“You are still worried about it,” Jyggalag finished for the man.

“Yes… I went to check on Master Felborne this morning, but he was not at home. I had hoped...”

Jyggalag unfolded his legs and stood up. “I’m going out.”

“Yes, Master.”

****

Jyggalag didn’t know what to expect when he entered Rowan’s home. A clue maybe, but there didn’t seem to be anything out of sorts. He tested the air and found no unfamiliar scents.

That was when the real worry set in.

_ There was only one thing that would make sense of what was going on, but… _ He tsked. He thought his creation would have perished when his connection to Oblivion was cut – its source of power eliminated at the same time. It was apparent now that, that assumption had been a mistake.

_ But, why would it target Rowan… It wouldn’t have known about… No. _ It would have been tracking Moralove, not the Nord. It was merely unfortunate chance that Rowan got caught in its crosshairs. He tapped his foot in short staccato bursts, irritation running beneath his skin. It didn’t help that he was picking up the faintest trace of Rowan’s blood – nothing serious, but enough to tell him the Nord didn’t leave voluntarily.

_ Damn…  _ Another thought struck him.  _ Shit…! _ He had to find Rowan before-

* * *

Rowan roused slowly, the sickening stench of blood doing more to wake him than his aching head. He tried to reach out with his hands but found them bound tightly behind his bare back with thick chain.

Sometime during his bout of unconsciousness, he had been relieved of his nightwear, his Daedric eye sealed without the use of a covering.

“AwAKe?”

His head turned toward the sound to find Not-Jyggalag peering at him excitedly from the edge of the… nest of furs and fabrics Rowan found himself in. A very dead bandit lay behind the Daedra, throat slashed, torso ripped open. The man had been stripped down to his undergarments. It wasn’t hard to guess where the bedding material came from.

Not-Jyggalag caught him staring. “Oh, dON’t woRrY ABouT thAt dIRty pEst… Or aNY oThErs. I mAde SUre thAt NO oNe wiLL coMe sNoopinG.”

_ Pest…  _ There were too many similarities, yet the Daedra certainly wasn’t the Jyggalag he had grown accustomed to. “You’re not Jyggalag…” he said it more as a statement, yet his words immediately caught Not-Jyggalag’s interest as he sat up.

“IndEEd, I aM mUch bETter thAn That  _ imPOster _ …” The Daedra hissed the last part, his grin easily slipping to a slight snarl. “When I HaD cAUght His scEnt on yOu, I hAD hOPed yoU WouLdn’t be THe sAme as thaT bORing DyUs… FaitHFul to tHe  _ wrONg _ onE…” The hand reached out for him again and Rowan leaned away. The Daedra didn’t seem openly offended, just simply accepted his rejection with a dissatisfied grunt.

“Why am I here?” He thought to change the subject. Maybe start with something simple.

“BeCaUse I’M intEResTed in yoU? Not maNY Hold TwO DaEdric PrinCes’ FavOrs, NOr rEceIvE suCh obviOUs DIsplaYs of AffeCTion.”

Rowan must have looked momentarily confused, because Not-Jyggalag continued.

“I wOuLd reCOgnize mY HerM-amOUra’s EyE anYwhEre… I’m SadDened thAt I MUst hiDe It, buT WE mUsTn't sCAre OuR dElicATe MAte-tO-Be. It wouLd Be fAr MOre diFFicUlt To apPrOAch if He wAs WaRy…”

“You said I hold two Princes’ favors… What’s the tell of the other?”

Not-Jyggalag seemed faintly amused, like he held a secret he wasn’t supposed to tell but was going to anyway. “YOUr Soul… It’s vERy… COmpAtiBle. It’S aLMoSt aS If iT's heLD toGEthEr bY sOMetHing fAmiLiar…” The Daedra had eased closer, blatantly pushing his way into Rowan’s personal space and grabbing his chin. “I woNdEr whY ThAt iS?”

“How the fuck would I know?” snarled Rowan, yanking his chin back.

“ArEn’t yOu at LeaSt cuRious?”

“Not at all.”

The eerie grin remained for a second more, before sliding away. A hard slap backhanded Rowan across the face, leaving long angry lines from the Daedra’s nails.

Rowan’s glare remained constant. His blood beading along the crimson lines and trickling down his face.

The Daedra broke back out into a grin. “HO, yEs. I liKE thAt exPreSsiON…”

* * *

It was inevitable, but Jyggalag needed help. He told Dyus of his failure and was now waiting for an answer to his current predicament. The floor beneath his pacing would likely not last at the current rate he was wearing it out at. “Well?” he finally blurted out.

Dyus startled, nearly dropping the scroll he had been consulting. “I’m sorry, Master… But, something is wrong I can’t-” Moralove’s pet chose that moment to intervene, smacking into Dyus’ nose and sending the small man into a flailing fit to get wriggling mass off.

“Squid! This better be important! Rowan is missing!” Jyggalag’s patience was at its limit.

The thing babbled its nonsensical language, and much to Jyggalag’s annoyance, he still couldn’t understand a word of it – not that he had taken the time to try to learn in the first place.

When it became obvious that it couldn’t deliver its message with chirps and whistles, it grabbed a nearby calligraphy brush and inkwell, and quickly started scrawling across Jyggalag’s torso.

“Squiiid!” growled Jyggalag unamused by the sudden mess of black on his chest.

“Wa- wait… Master, I think it’s a map.”

Jyggalag growled again but reigned in his growing temper. “And, why draw it  _ on _ me?”

“So… so you don’t lose it?” guessed Dyus.

Having no more apparent need of it, Squid dropped the brush and nodded.

Jyggalag sighed, his fingers curling into tight fists. “Fine. Where does it lead?”

* * *

Not-Jyggalag had gotten far too close, closer than any other time previous. Rowan backed away as far as he was able, but even that wasn’t going to enough.

“WHat is tHat smELL?” asked Not-Jyggalag as he paused his undressing to sniff the air again. “Is thAt dEligHtful sMeLL yOurs?”

“What are yo-?”

Rowan was grabbed roughly, sharp claws digging into his upper arms.

“ShhHhH… LEt mE sCEnt yOu…”

Rowan tried to shift away as the Daedra leaned in; as the Daedra nuzzled into the right side of his throat. “Get off me!” But, with his arms still bound, there was only so much he could do.

Satisfied, Not-Jyggalag pulled away, breathing deeply as he did so. “InTOXicaTing,” was all he could say after. His dark eyes swept back over Rowan’s body, appreciating him anew. “It’S a wOnder neitHer of TheM hAd hidDeN You aWAy…”

Rowan bit back the comment that Mora has already tried – that Rowan refused to be some locked up princess, and ultimately Mora settled for encouraging the growth of dense trees around his home to confuse trespassers instead. He doubted that Not-Jyggalag would understand.

“If yOu WoUld pERmit Me…” continued Not-Jyggalag, ignoring his silence. His hands trailed up the sides of Rowan’s throat to cup his head. “I wOuLD vEry muCH LiKe To mArk YOu…”

Rowan stiffened. That was the one thing he couldn’t let happen. Mora had made that much clear to him; even more so in recent years.  _ Something about his bonding site, ‘getting close’. _ He shook off the grey hands. “How about ‘no’.”

Not-Jyggalag chuckled as his grip tightened. “Oh, bUt I wASn’t giVing yOU an oPtiOn. i wAs SimPly bEing poLi-”

Smashing his thick skull against the Daedra’s face, Rowan heard a satisfying crack as he pulled back.

The Daedra held his bleeding nose for a few surprised seconds, before snapping it back into place with a scowl. He wiped the silver ichor away on the back of his hand.

Rowan was ill-prepared for the fist that smashed into the side of his face. Or, the second that had him sprawled against the furs. He grew momentarily dazed and the naked Daedra took the opportunity to climb over him, to move in between his parted legs.

“I Don’T wAnt hurt you. But, You kEep leaVing me No chOiCe…” Almost softly, Not-Jyggalag stroked the side of Rowan’s face. “I wiLL taKE yOu fRoM hiM.”

Trying to shake the Daedra proved as fruitless as the first time, and with their current position, there was no way to get any leverage. “Get off of me!” Rowan protested as his head was held against the furs by a strong hand in his hair.

“I dOn’t ThiNk sO…” The Daedra dipped down, his face growing obscured by the tight angle it had moved to. His fangs nipped along Rowan’s jaw, to tickle his earlobe and travel lower.

Somehow Rowan felt himself stir with interest, and a cold sweat broke out along his back with the realization of what it meant. “No- Ahhh…” His complaint quickly devolved into a wanton mewl as the Daedra nibbled a particularly sensitive spot.

“EnJoy It, LOveLy…” Not-Jyggalag murmured against his skin.

Rowan clenched his teeth, using every ounce of his willpower to fight the pleasure that was having his body betray him. But, it was inevitable. Simple teasing over that spot and his muscles turned to water. “Nrrggh… hmmm…”

The Daedra gave a final lick to that spot along his throat… to his bonding spot. “YeSss… YOu cAaaAn FeeL tHaT…”

Despite the haze that was falling over his mind, Rowan could still feel the Daedra’s grin against his skin, the slow grind of the Daedra’s member against his own.

“dOn’t WorRy I’ll gIVe yOu WHaT You ReAlLy wAnt…”

Rowan felt like he wanted to vomit. “No…” but, even that protest disappeared when fangs sank into his throat. There was nothing but white noise in his head and those points of pressure in his neck. Nothing but pure, heated pleasure.

* * *

“You!”

“Ho… HELLo,  _ OriGiNaL… _ ” His creation pulled back from Rowan’s throat, a mess of red painting its lips and chin.

His eyes shifted to the Nord and Jyggalag tensed. There was a deep puncture along Rowan’s neck. A mark that would be all too similar to his own had he ever tried.

Fury began pounding along his temple but he refused to let it out – not yet anyway. Instead, his hand tightened over his sheathed katana and his thumb pushed against its guard to pop the blade free a scarce inch.

“IsN’t He juSt AdoRAbLe?”

He snapped his dark eyes away to glare at his creation. Then its words registered, and his fury was temporarily bowled over by a different emotion. “W...What? Of course not!” snapped Jyggalag.

Through the rapidly healing bruising on his face the Nord gave him a curious, but still foggy, look.

“nO? THen yOu woULdn’t cAre If I…” His creation leaned down over Rowan, yanking the Nord’s head back and baring his throat again. Its tongue snaked out of its disgusting maw and lapped at the smoky-scented blood partially obscuring the mark.

Rowan tried to bite back the moan, but…

The sound that slipped through had Jyggalag twitch slightly, and he acted on it immediately; his blade sliding from its sheath and rushing towards his creation’s head.

His creation backed off in an equally fluid motion, pausing to wipe the crimson from its face with its tongue. “MigHt You bE a liTtlE jEaLOus?”

“Me jealous of you? I couldn’t care less about… that...  _ Pest _ .” Jyggalag swung out with his blade. Steel striking steel as his creation parried with its own sword.

“ThEn? WhY nOt LEaVe us AloNe? YOu haVe yOUr  _ AMoUr-a, _ ” sneered his creation.

“I know you… You want everything.” He had to duck the coming strike.

“ArE yoU suRe yOu AreN’t tALkiNg aboUT yOurSELf?”

Their banter was proving to be distracting – maybe even more than Rowan’s freshly bonded scent. Jyggalag received a small nick across his shoulder for his trouble, ebbing his guilt… his failure to keep the Nord safe while Moralove was otherwise occupied.

He snarled as his creation grinned. Jyggalag refused to be goaded into making further errors. “How did you even escape your cell? I thought to have trapped you forever...”

“As yOuR maGic faiLed, so Too Did youR WarDs aNd YouR ChAINs. It BroUGHt me sO NEAr deaTh, aNd Yet…” His creation cast a longing look over where Rowan remained tied and still. “iT seeMs tO haVe BeeN wortH it.”

Jyggalag howled then, throwing himself forward with his sword raised.

_ This was his fault… again! Again! AgAin! AGaiN! aG- _

When Jyggalag had regained control of his senses, he was standing over his creation, his sword lodged through its windpipe. It was clawing at the blade, at his arms, trying vainly to remove the thing impeding its breathing.

He forced it deeper, the blade’s sharpened tip piercing the stone beneath them. His creation gave a final rasping gurgle before falling silent, its hands falling away.

“Rowan!” Jyggalag left his sword in his creation’s throat. It would keep the thing pinned for a while until he decided to remove it.

He shook the Nord’s shoulders, futilely hoping Rowan would snap out of the bonding stupor early. That maybe the mark wouldn’t take, despite the shift in Rowan’s scent persistently telling him otherwise. “Come on you… Don’t tell me that you can be claimed so easily… Please.”

But, he might as well have been talking to a wall. The gods wouldn’t be so merciful.  _ Not to him. _ As far as Daedric biology was concerned, the Nord was barely pubescent and would have no resistance to a mark – forced or otherwise.

Jyggalag hugged Rowan closer. “Please…”

****

Rowan didn’t rouse for another few hours as his body dealt with the venom finalizing the bond between him and the abomination Jyggalag had created.

“Ummm, Jygg?” Unused to sign of affection from him, the Nord shifted uncomfortably in his tight embrace.

After another moment, Jyggalag pulled away – his emotions safely locked behind the barrier of his discipline once again. There was still a way to fix this, though he was less than thrilled about how he was to fix it.

_ Mephala... _

Rowan would likely have a few disagreements about the next few steps of his plan, but if he was unconscious, then Jyggalag wouldn’t have to hear them.

“Hey. Jy-” A quick aimed blow to the base of his neck knocked him out. Jyggalag felt mildly awful about exploiting Rowan’s weakened state, but it was the easiest and fastest method he had available. The Nord collapsed into his arms.

_ Now for the next step... _

****

Fortunately, by the time he had finished constructing the temporary shrine away from the tower and his deplorable creation, it was already past midnight. He placed the Nightshade bulb at the base of it and waited. And waited.

_ He wasn’t worried. _

He had until dawn for Mephala to answer his call, but when the eastern sky began to lighten, his concern grew. Jyggalag crossed his arms over his chest, his foot tapping erratically.

_ He wasn’t worried… _

“Hmmm…? And what do we have here?” The shadows lengthened from the shrine, stretching from its boundary like thousands of spider legs. “I see someone got a little too eager-”

“Can you break it?” Jyggalag interrupted, not liking the intrigued look Mephala was giving Rowan who was laid out nearby.

Mephala’s form rose from the grass, the shadowed spiders coalescing into one being. “Perhaps, but not here. My power is somewhat limited outside of my realm.” The spider being gestured, and a portal flickered to life, the scents of the Spiral Skein crawling from its depths.

“Of course.” Entering another’s realm didn’t sit well with him, but he had little choice if he wanted Mephala’s aid.

She hummed, her curiosity mounting as Jyggalag gathered Rowan into his arms. “A slip in your so-called discipline?”

“No.”

The other Daedric Prince grew momentarily confused, then her annoying grin returned. “Someone has a few secrets...”

_ And, she would want to know all about them… _

****

The portal snapped closed behind him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Jyggalag?” This time Mephala bothered to grace him personally.

His grip tightened on the Nord in his arms. She knew why he had come, she was teasing him more than anything.

She grinned wider with his furthering silence. “I kid, Jyggalag. But, why should I help you? Last time you sought my help, I had to clean up your mess afterward. I hardly call that exchange fair.”

Jyggalag opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again. He wouldn’t be goaded into her game.

“Awww. You’re no fun.” Mephala pouted, the faked frown pulling on her black painted lips. “Very well… But it still stands that I want something out of this little interaction of ours.”

“I imagine you have something in mind?”

“Of course. You have been quite… exclusive.”

He could feel himself bristling. The implication of her words not settling well. He had only ever wanted Moramour, he saw no need for any other…  _ until… until… _ Jyggalag growled.

“One night. That’s all I ask.”

_ There had to be more to it. Would be more to it. _

“Soooo…” she purred, her long legs tapping out a soft patter against the stone as she approached. Her hand slid under his chin to tilt his head up to face her. “Deal?”

Jyggalag tsked, knowing Mephala had him cornered; that she was the only one who could, and would, help him. “Fine! Deal.”

She released his head with a tap on his nose. “Oh, don’t be like that… I think you’ll actually enjoy this.”

“I doubt it,” he half mumbled, his eyes tracking the Spider Daedra who were taking Rowan away now that their arrangement had been made.

Mephala merely chuckled in response. “You’ll see him again. In... five months perhaps. Depends on how much I have to ‘fix’.”

_ Five-? It might as well be a century, _ his heart complained, severely doubting his current choices. He ignored it. “So be it.”

“Excellent.”

****

He sat on the edge of her bed with arms and legs crossed. He was not looking forward to this.

“Come on…” Mephala sidled closer, the mattress barely dipping to give her the illusion of being extraordinary light. “Don’t be shy.” Her whisper was dangerously close to his ear.

She eased him into a different position; his legs stretched out across his mattress, arms back to hold his upper weight.

“It’s okay, Hun. Brother will never know about it, so you can just relax. It’ll be our little secret.” Mephala crawled over him, a pair of hands working slowly up his sides while the other pair dipped lower, and lower – to be delicate tracing touches over his sheath.

He could feel his lust mounting, desire pooling in his gut. But, he refused to let it show, to give Mephala any sort of satisfaction. This was a business transaction between them, nothing more. Whatever power the other Daedric Prince gained in this act, was hers alone.

“You’re thinking too hard. If it makes you feel better...” She flipped a few strands of her raven hair forward, its color fading quickly to white. “All I need to change this… and this…” Her moonlight silver skin shifted pale-green as additional sets of eyes opened along her brows and high cheekbones, their placement perfectly mimicking Moralove’s own crown of eyes – albeit hers still sporting their red glow.

Mephala must have noticed his subtle slack jaw because she chuckled; the sound like slick oil. Slipping lower, she cradled his cock between her large breasts.

“Now you can see that he and I are indeed siblings… My. Cute. Little. Brother,” she reminisced. Her tongue darted out and licked a stripe up the side of his length. “So just relax Jyggalag… Let your sister-by-bond take care of you…”

He hated himself for even remotely taking enjoyment in what Mephala was doing. For how her mouth worked over his hardening member. Over his balls.

After a while, she frowned and pulled off of him. “If this is how you behave with Hermaeus Mora, it's a wonder why he picked you…”

Jyggalag looked away, his own frown flicking briefly to his lips.

Her crimson eyes narrowed on his face, and she hummed thoughtfully. “I think someone is still keeping secrets…”

“Any remaining secrets are my own-”

“Not these.” She grinned as two of her hands grabbed the sides of his head.

He tried to wrest his head away from her but failed. Jyggalag could feel her prying into his head slinking her way through his thoughts and by-passing them completely.

_ What was she…? _

The first touches against the door of his discipline had his mind reeling, his eyes darting side-to-side as he tried to break free again. He knew exactly what Mephala was trying to do.

“Just relax,” she encouraged, her grip growing tighter. “It’ll only be a temporary thing. After we’re finished, you can go back to being as boring and expressionless as you were before…”

With those final words, he felt his long upheld enchantment fade, his emotions rushing forth to fill the voids their presences once held.

With the snarl on his lips unbidden, he angrily smacked her hands away. “This wasn’t paRt of oUR deal.”

She tilted her head with that same horrid, knowing grin still on her face. “Oh, but this is very much ‘part of our deal’, and now I believe I can get a few reactions from you...”

“YoU wiLL rEgREt tHiS…”

His threat did little to dissuade her. “I always welcome a challenge.”

“‘ChAllEnGE’ wiLL bE an uNDErstaTeMent.”

“Ho? Something to look forward to then.”

****

There was no love between them. No feelings. Just angry, primal lust.

Jyggalag was pinned beneath her, having lost the control some time during their bouts. He was panting, his face flush with desire, but not for the woman on top of him. 

_ It frustrated him far too much. _

Mephala chuckled her demeanor still as unnaturally perfect as when they had begun. “I can see why my brother likes you so much. You pass…”

“PaSs…? PAss… wHAt?”

A clawed finger traced over his pectoral, over his heart. “I was worried for my little Hermy. To be attracted to such a stiff. But, you are far more than that, aren’t you? Underneath all that armor, you actually care. Likely always have. How… sweet.”

He could feel her influence fading, his mental discipline returning. “If wE are doNe here, can you get off me?”

“For now.” She effortlessly rose off of him, and with a flick of her fingers, his clothes rematerialized around him. “Come play again anytime.”

Leaving through the portal she opened for him, he only offered one last growl.

Mephala laughed.

****

“ThiS Is deMeaniNG,” griped his creation, tugging at the length of chain attached firmly around its neck.

Jyggalag didn’t bother even giving it a glance. He ignored it and adjusted the plaque over the human-sized dog-house he had created in an obscure corner of his pond room.  _ He was still a little sour that he couldn’t just bury it in some dark prison again. Not to mention the reason why… Apparently, Mephala needed the thing accessible to make ensure the bond was fully broken. _

Stepping back from his work, he examined its placement, and finding it perfectly centered, gave the wooden plaque the slightest tap to the left.

“HeY!” His creation’s attention was finally drawn to what Jyggalag had been working on. “NOw yOu’RE jUst bEiNg pEtty.”

Jyggalag wasn’t completely sure on whether his creation was complaining about what he just did or about what the plaque read:  _ ‘Beware I bite’.  _ He figured that the complaint could be for both. “You are deserving of far less…”

“Oh, YEs. I suPpoSe i ShouLD bE thANkfuL. THanKful, foR bEinG cHaiNed liKe soMe ANimaL, DEpriveD of mY MaTE…”

A frown flickered faintly on Jyggalag’s face. “He was never yours in the first place.”

“THAt’s RiGHt. HeRMamOr wAs tO cLaiM tHat DaRLing NorD FIRst… HOw HAve yoU BrOkeN thE nEWs tO HiM?”

He remained quiet. There was no reason to give it anything more.

“Ho. I DoN’t THinK yOu did…”

“Nor will I have to.” Jyggalag left before he strangled his creation.

* * *

His Master’s counterpart stalked along a path that the heavy chain around his neck would allow. “It’S BeEN Too LOnG. ToO LOonG!”

_Near five months now…_ _Not that his Master had cared to share the what, and why of Master Felborne’s mysterious absence._ Dyus could have investigated, but politely respected his Master’s wishes of secrecy.

“Eat. Please,” Dyus insisted, holding out the platter again.

His attention turned on Dyus, all that pent-up frustration exploding into a single growled, “FrEe Me!!!” as his claws and fangs extended.

Squid, who had tagged along as protection, started buzzing as static crackled along its pebbled skin. It didn’t take well to the sudden aggression.

“No.” Dyus could only imagine the repercussions of releasing his Master’s counterpart, especially when Lord Jyggalag was similarly agitated – albeit with far less external signs. “But, please eat. I’d hate for such food to go to waste again.”

“Is tHAt HiS conCeRN SpeAKINg? Or YOUrs?”

Dyus left the tray within the counterpart’s reach and bowed. “Eat.” With that said, and the food delivered, he left, a frustrated howl following his departure.

* * *

Rowan was ‘dropped off’ in his own home, Squid welcoming him back with a chorus of thrilled chirps and whistles.

“Glad to be back,” he answered the creature. “How long have I been gone?”

Squid gave him a warbled response.

“Fi- Five months!?”

An affirmative chirp.

_ Hooooo boy.  _

“And Mora?” 

_ He’s missed more than a few of their ‘dates’. _

He got a rolled churr followed by a hiccup.

_ At least, Jyggalag covered for him… but, saying ‘he was adventuring?’ _ Rowan was sure Mora had something planned for his eventual return. He scratched the side of his face. “So, how has Jygg been?”

The creature shrugged somewhat – not that he was surprised. Squid always tended to favor hanging around Dyus when he was away.

He ran a hand through his hair.  _ Five months, huh? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check on the Daedra. _

****

The house was dark, but it likely could have been from Jyggalag simply being out.

_ It wasn't like he would have been expected... _

On the off chance he tried a few doors. Again, most rooms were empty, but there had been an unexpected addition to Jyggalag's pond room.

_ A dog house? _ Its shape resembled one, but it was far too large.

“HOw niCe oF You to cOMe sEe Me.”

The sound sent shivers up Rowan's spine, and he turned to find Jyggalag's face staring at him...  _ correction... _ Not-Jyggalag's face. He thought Jyggalag had gotten rid of him and hadn't expected to see the copy ever again – much less in Jyggalag's pond room.

He inched away a few steps, feeling particularly wary about the Daedra. The heavy collar-and-chain around Not-Jyggalag’s neck did little to ease his caution, especially when Not-Jyggalag started tiptoeing closer. “MaAAatE.”

Rowan sidled a few steps back to keep the distance between them.

The Daedra moved even closer.

Rowan moved further away.

“YoU’vE CoMe tO me!” Not-Jyggalag pounced.

Instinct had Rowan already running the other way. Only a choked, “EcK,” had him glance back, tripping on the uneven ground in the process. He scrambled back on his hands, barely avoiding Not-Jyggalag falling on his face.

The chain had been an abrupt halt to the Daedra’s run.

“DoN’T gO,” Not-Jyggalag pleaded, his arm shaking as it stretched out towards Rowan. “I dOn’t WaNt To bE aloNE agAin...”

The Daedra’s expression was pitiable, and it definitely didn’t help that he looked so much like Jyggalag.  _ Those sad, dark eyes... _

“NoT aGaiN…” The Daedra sliding his black clothing from his shoulders quickly reminded Rowan otherwise and his hand retreated back.

“What are you being so obnoxiously loud abo- P-Pest!!??!”

Rowan turned to the speaker. Jyggalag was standing in the doorway.  _ Angry. As usual… So much for absence makes the heart fonder… _

“Heeeey, Jygg…” He half-grinned, trying to push back the Daedra’s half-naked copy at the same time.

“You’re… back…” Jyggalag spoke slowly as if he was somehow unsure.

“Yeah-” Not-Jyggalag had decided to take that moment to let out a loud purr as he rubbed his head against Rowan’s outstretched hand. A chill ran up his spine. A tingle at his throat. Along…  _ both _ sides of his throat.  _ Whatever that meant… _

Jyggalag crossed the distance and dragged Rowan away by the back of his shirt. He released him several feet from the end of Not-Jyggalag’s chain. “Do you hate him?” Tapping out a quick irritated beat with his foot, Jyggalag sought Rowan’s answer.

Not-Jyggalag looked almost pitiful.

“‘Hate’ is a strong word…”

The Daedra frowned at his response, and Rowan could swear he saw Jyggalag’s pointed ears pull flatter against his head. “Good. He’s your guard dog from now on…”

“What?!”

Not-Jyggalag perked up. His hands went to his collar and he tried to pull the chain and house closer to Rowan. It didn’t budge.

“You obviously can’t be left on your own.”

“You’re starting to sound like Mora…” Rowan grumbled.

“And, I imagine for good reason. I’ll have him moved next to your home. The chain should keep him out of your house for the most part.”

“Most part?! Wait, Jygg-” A portal swallowed him up in the next moment, dropping him into his front entranceway. A moment later he heard a loud thud and poked his head out the nearest window.

The abnormally large dog house was next door as Jyggalag had mentioned, his copy sitting cross-legged in the grass. Not-Jyggalag noticed Rowan staring, and waved.

Rowan closed the window.


	18. Leaving a Mark [Mature]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan’s returned from Mephala’s fix-it session. Is Jyggalag prepared to see him again after what he did? Maybe Dyus can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Jyggalag/Male Dovahkiin, Dyus
> 
> At a certain point I should just label this whole thing "The Ideas Skit Gives Me"... I'm pretty sure over 50% has been her ideas XD

It had been a few days since Master Felborne had returned, and things seemed to be going back to normal. Dyus, on a self-made errand to reorganize Lord Jyggalag’s weapons, stopped, an odd sound meeting his ears.

A crash – odd because of how careful his Master normally was.

“Master?!” Dyus went running, only to stop as he found his Lord bent over a vase, picking up the fragmented pottery.

“It’s nothing.”

Dyus found that hard to believe, and his Master seemed able to read his doubt.

“He’s back, but I just can’t be at peace.” He leaned out the window and pointed an accusatory finger in the direction of Master Felborne’s home. “How am I even supposed to relax with that idiotic Nord flashing his second mark free?!? If I had known what Mephala had meant when she said she was going to ‘fix things’...”

_ Ahhhh… That explains his Master’s distracted behavior of late. _

He couldn’t help the small grin. “So, Master is interested in Master Felborne?”

The sudden upward perk of Lord Jyggalag’s ears and the slight blue staining their tips were far more truthful than his following words. “N-Nonsense. After all the trouble he has caused me…” In more of a whisper, he added, “After all I’ve done…”

Dyus extended a hand, putting it gently on his Master’s shoulder.

“There’s no way that pest would… I tried to kill him…”

“Master…”

“I manipulated him… Abused him…”

“Master.” Dyus’ grip tightened slightly; just enough to draw attention to himself.

His Master turned, a disheartened look on his face.

“There is no way, he hates you,” Dyus assured him. “Master, it may be time to face your feelings, don’t you think?”

* * *

Rowan scratched at the mark on the right side of his neck. It was itchy. Inflamed. The main reason he felt so damn tired, even upon waking.

_ Mora had shown no mercy when he had found out Rowan could be bonded. _ The way Mora had latched on…  _ You would have thought he was a vampire. _

“Geeeh. Tired.” He yawned and tried to ignore the red bite mark along his throat. Scratching it only seemed to make the itch worse.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door. Soft. Tentative. Rowan wasn’t expecting visitors, and the only one that came to mind had been spending all his infinite free time trying to break into his home since being stationed next door. Rowan grabbed the mace he left in the front hall and opened the door.

He was glad he didn’t start swinging, his visitor was Dyus, not the menace he had initially thought.

The small man looked nervous, though he was pretty sure that the mace might have had something to do with it. “G-Good Morning.”

“Dyus. ‘Morning.”

His exhaustion must have been showing on his face, because Dyus soon after asked, “Are you… alright?”

Quick footsteps drew Rowan’s attention away before he could answer.  _ If they didn’t move fast they would have an unwelcome visitor. _

He grabbed Dyus’ wrist, yanked him inside, slammed the door, and slid the deadbolt back into place. There was a following muted thud and a brief scratching against the door as Not-Jyggalag tried to get it, but Rowan kept moving.

Dyus was a little confused, taking the time to glance back and ask, “Is he always like that?”

“Always… Come on.”

Rowan led Dyus up to his library tower. “We can talk here.” It was windy, and the Northern wind was chilly with the coming promise of winter, but it was far enough from the ground that they wouldn’t be interrupted or eavesdropped on. “So… What does Jygg want?” He couldn’t really think of any other reason Dyus would be showing up on his doorstep.

Dyus took a moment to look away from the railing he was clinging to for dear life.  _ Whether it was at the risk of being blown off or the height of the tower itself, _ Rowan had a hard time guessing. “Nothing. I came on my own to see how you were doing.”

“How kind of you.” Absentmindedly, he rubbed his eye and stifled a yawn.

Despite his attempts to be subtle, Dyus caught the act anyway. “You look tired…”

Rowan chuckled lightly.  _ Tired was an understatement. _

“You know… There is a place nearby that would be a good place to nap. I can show you if you like.”

The promise of any sleep was a blessing. “Really… Your offer is nice, but…”  _ If it was nearby... _

“Master won’t be there, and his copy shouldn’t be able to enter.”

Rowan caught sight of Not-Jyggalag already trying to scale the walls of his home, testing locked windows for entry.  _ Even a nap wouldn’t be an option if he stayed here. _ “Alright. I can give it a shot.”

****

He wasn’t sure how he missed the clearing before now because he was certain he would have noticed the giant crystal reflecting a rainbow of colors along the grass and tree trunks. Vibrant red paper lanterns hung from the lush tree boughs, swinging gently with the breeze.

“Master uses this place for color therapy and meditation,” Dyus said as he rolled out a thin bedroll. “This place has been warded so…”

_ No unwarranted interruptions… _ Rowan’s mind filled in for him. It sounded too good to be true, but Rowan was hardly going to complain.

Dyus brushed out the wrinkles on his white robes then bowed; his work completed, the bedroll all laid out and pillow fluffed. “You can take a peaceful rest now. See you later.”

Before Rowan could even thank the man, he had run off.

_ Oh, well… _

Rowan flopped down, his eyes closing near instantly. Sleep sounded like a good way to spend the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Jyggalag stretched with his yawn. His nap had been a pleasant one. Quiet and uneventful as it should have been since he finished the last of the wards around the place. No one, save for himself and Dyus, could enter uninvited. It was his little sanctuary, and… and. Having heard a soft snore, Jyggalag peeked around the tree trunk he had been resting on. He couldn’t imagine that Dyus would be slacking off.

The mop of messy dark-brown hair and broad back was not at all what he had been suspecting. He could feel his eyebrow twitch as his jaw went slack, all remnants of sleep fled.

_ Dyus! _

His servant was meddling again, and Jyggalag couldn’t help getting frustrated. To try and clear his head, he slammed it against the wide trunk. Jyggalag was going to have to deal with his unexpected…  _ guest. _

Reaching a hand out toward the sleeping Nord, he stopped. Eventually, his hand retreated entirely.

_ No…  _ He could let Rowan rest for a bit longer, the Nord was quiet for once.

****

Night had fallen, his paper lanterns set aglow by the enchantments painstakingly carved into their wooden frames, and painted on the red paper.

Jyggalag felt Rowan stir behind him, then to rise slowly and prop himself up on one arm.

“Were you sitting there for a long time?”

_ For several hours, _ not that Jyggalag was going to share. “What do you think?” he answered instead, his quill continuing to scratch out his lengthy list under the faint glow of a candlelight spell.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing down Dyus’ next chores. And, I’m taking great pleasure in doing SO.” His voice rose to a slight quiver as he accidentally broke the nib on his pen.

The Nord was sitting up fully now. “Oh…? Why?”

He felt his brow furrow. “It can’t be a coincidence… Not with  _ dinner for two _ over here.” Somehow Dyus had managed to deliver supper while Jyggalag had left to fetch something to do in his idle time. The fact that it was so obviously laid out for both him and the Nord, erased any remaining doubt as to why his servant had brought Rowan.

“You’re a bit harsh on that one…” Rowan had leaned in close and pointed over his shoulder at the task he had just written.

Jyggalag couldn’t focus. Not on what he had written anyway. All his senses chose to focus on the single point at his throat where Rowan’s chin was brushing over. He could only ignore it for so long, eventually just jumping away.

“Don’t do that!” he shouted from a scarce distance.

Rowan, as usual, had no idea what he had been doing. “Do what?”

“You know…” It was frustrating that even now, Rowan was so… oblivious.

There was a faint rustle in a nearby bush. “Master!!! Ask him about his free bonding place.” It was Dyus, being very unhelpful in maintaining Jyggalag’s mental calm.

The Nord grew confused and mildly curious.

Jyggalag knew he had to fix things quickly before there became an obvious misunderstanding. “It’s not what it sounds like! It’s merely for safety purposes. Not like I would be… interested in you.” He glanced away unable to continue eye contact with the Nord.

“Ah. I see… ‘safety’.” Rowan sounded far less enthusiastic, his tone downtrodden and resigned.

Glancing back to actually see Rowan’s expression… Jyggalag regretted he couldn’t be more honest… that his pride continued to suppress his feelings. “I mean. Unless you have someone else in mind? Another Daedra?”

“I… Jygg…”

Rowan might have been saying something, but Jyggalag was too deep in his own thoughts. “Would you rather have a prince like Sanguine!?”

Somehow the Nord had crept closer without him noticing. “I  _ really _ don’t want Sanguine near me… Ever.”

This close, Jyggalag could smell him. A fragrance of pine, fire salts, and… wine. His scent had a subtle change, enough that it was somehow attractive.

“It just needs to be bitten once, right?”

Jyggalag swallowed heavily, his fangs already feeling too big for his mouth as his dark eyes focused on the uncovered spot in question – uncovered due to Rowan’s usual wide-necked tunic. “Yeah… Just… A. Bite.” He forced his eyes away from Rowan’s free bonding sight.  _ Since when had he started liking the Nord’s scent? _

The Nord sighed heavily. “You better do it now then. I’m still a mess from Mora’s bite, so now is probably better than later...”

“Sure…”

“Just make it quick.”

Jyggalag huffed. “Of course. I will hardly be enjoying this.”

“Yeah… I’ve figured as much. Would turning into Rowi help?”

He huffed again. The Nord’s gender hardly mattered. His hands rose to Rowan’s shoulders, his fingers gripping maybe a little tighter than he had intended.

Rowan took his silence as an answer. “You sure?”

Jyggalag’s thumb stroked over Rowan’s collarbone, to slip under his tunic and tug it from his shoulder with more than a little forceful yank. He had ripped the fabric, not that Rowan had noticed. “I’m fine with you like this Rowan.”

* * *

_ ‘Rowan?’ Had Jyggalag really used his name? _

He could feel the Daedra lean in closer, the humid parting of his lips. The touch of teeth along is neck was enough to flare the blush on his cheeks, to have it touching the rest of his face and ears. Those same teeth digging into that sensitive spot along his throat had him moaning. His arms wrapped around Jyggalag’s back to pull him closer as sounds he couldn’t suppress made themselves known to all who could hear.

They fell back into the grass, Rowan’s limbs turning weak. He could feel the Daedra smile against his skin, the quietest rumble working its way through Jyggalag’s chest. Behind them, the lone crystal glowed, and Rowan has the briefest thought it was tied to Jyggalag’s mental state.

But eventually, even that thought disappeared.

Rowan’s teeth felt itchy, his canines hot with some kind of pressure building up behind them. They extended from his gums, their tips turning to sharpened razor points. Before he knew it, he was biting down; soft flesh rending beneath his fangs, the itch fading as he sank into the bliss that claimed him.

* * *

Jyggalag’s eyes shot wide, his body sent into an uncontrolled quiver.

_ Did Rowan just…? _

He could feel the flush of Daedric venom entering his system, could feel it whispering promises of further pleasure if he let it complete its task.  _ It would be so simple… so easy to let the bond finish. _ The thought had him moan into Rowan’s throat.

Rowan definitely wasn’t helping. The way one of the Nord’s broad hands stroked down his back, sliding further down to pull him closer. The way Rowan ground up against him, clothed member against clothed member.

_ It would be so easy… _

****

He woke come daybreak; Rowan snapping out of the bonding haze around the same time. It took a few seconds before his brain caught up with how close they were, of the silver smeared on Rowan’s lips, of the fading haze clouding his own mind.

Jyggalag panicked and immediately put some distance between them with a startled shout.

It took a few more seconds for him to internally confirm what he saw, his hand coming up to his bonding site. He was trembling.

_ Had he…? _

“Let’s forget about…  _ this… _ ” Jyggalag said, rising to his unsteady feet.

“Jygg?!”

_ He didn’t want to believe that he allowed the bond to take… Wouldn’t believe it… _

“Jygg!!” came Rowan’s echoed call, the sound already distant as Jyggalag picked up his pace.

_ No! No! No! Noo!! Moramour! Moramour! _

He had been meaning to save himself but had so easily fallen under the bond’s thrall. He had let Rowan claim him…

Jyggalag made it back to his home, the path overly familiar, and closed the front door tight again.

_ It did not happen! Did NOT happen! _

* * *

Rowan stood there, dumbstruck at what just happened. He touched his tingling shoulder, then at the silver still staining his lips. It wasn’t hard to put two-and-two together. The Daedra ran out on him.

His brow furrowed, and he swore before giving chase, following Jyggalag’s trail of trodden grass and broken branches.

The trail led him back to Jyggalag’s home, the large castle-like mansion still ever present. He brushed the leaves from his hair and approached.

****

It was dark inside. A sight that was getting uncomfortably familiar with regards to the Daedra. He was getting really sick of the sense of deja-vu, and of finding nothing in any of the rooms.

_ There was one place that he hadn’t checked yet…  _ And, noticing the distinct lack of Mora’s seal on the gateway, it was a likely contender.

Jyggalag’s realm was as he remembered it, even down to the corner where they first…

He noticed the discarded white robe near instantly.

_ Bathroom. Of course! _

Jyggalag was in the small bathing room, scrubbing soap and water over his front, his back, his neck. His throat in particular, raising an agitated shade on his grey skin.

“I’m sorry Moramour!” the Daedra bemoaned. “I failed you…”

It was a pathetic sight. “Jyggalag!”

The Daedra looked at him with a muted whimper. It lasted as long as it took for Jyggalag to recognize it was him. “Go away PEST!!!” he shouted, flinging a nearby pail at his head.

Rowan just barely dodged the projectile.

Raising his hands, he slowly stepped closer. “Jygg, please. Just stay calm and let's talk about this…”

“I don’t want to! Get out of my sight!”

“Jygg…”

Another step closer.

“I mean it!! Go away before I have to hurt you!”

“I’m sorry Jygg… I’m not even sure how it happened…” He was almost within arm’s reach now.

The closed distance wasn't lost on Jyggalag. A growl bubbled in his throat as he snarled. “I’m warning you, Rowan…”

One more step, and… Jyggalag swung hard, his right fist cracking into the side of Rowan’s head.

Rowan was temporarily knocked away, but he returned swinging. 

His momentum pulled him close, close enough that he could wrap his arms around the Daedra, trapping Jyggalag’s arms at his sides.

“Get off! Get off!” Jyggalag demanded when he realized Rowan wasn’t about to be goaded into a fight.

“Sorry, but no.” Pushing his luck, Rowan laid a small kiss to the corner of Jyggalag’s frown. “Not letting you escape this time.” He only got a dissatisfied tsk for his efforts, but he considered that progress. “I know you wanted Mora.”

The Daedra in his arms teared-up slightly and Rowan brushed them away with his thumb. “Moramour,” whimpered Jyggalag.

“We’ll find some way, or I’ll take responsibility for it. So… don’t be sad, okay?”

“I’m not…” Jyggalag obstinately protested.

“It’s nice to see you anyway… though, I really want to see more of your  _ true _ self…”

“You wouldn’t like the ‘true’ me.”

Rowan couldn’t help letting out a small chuckle. “Well if earlier was even a fraction of what you’re like under that icy exterior…”

His embrace was subtly returned. “If you tell anyone of what you saw… I’ll have no choice but to kill you. Immortal or not.”

“You can try… Again,” Rowan laughed as he pulled away. It was then that a different matter came up. One involving his breeches; soiled by earlier events. “While I’m here… can I use your bath?”

One disgusted look down was all it took for the Daedra to agree he needed to bathe.

****

“Soap?”

Wordlessly, Jyggalag handed the bar over and continued scrubbing down himself. This time far more relaxed.

“Thanks.”

“No need. I can smell you from over here-” He stood quickly, and dumped the remainder of the pail’s contents over his head. Jyggalag marched himself into the small hot spring and plunged up to his neck.

_ Ooookay… _ Rowan continued his own scrubbing, trying and failing to ignore the eyes that peeked at him from over the rim of the bath.

At a certain point, he figured he was clean enough and rinsed off. He slid in beside Jyggalag when it became clear the Daedra was going to at least tolerate his presence.

The warm water was strangely welcome, easing away pains he didn’t even know he had. Rowan sunk deeper, his nose barely skimming the water’s surface.

_ Mates, huh… With Jyggalag… _

The Daedra caught him staring and cast a glare in his direction. Rowan figured his presence had overstayed its welcome and he retreated to the opposite side as per Jyggalag’s usual want of space.  _ Best to follow the ‘stay to your own side’ rule, if he wanted to have any sort of extended stay. _

There was a subtle splash from Jyggalag’s side, and he saw the brief flash of a hand sinking deeper into the steaming water. The Daedra had risen slightly, but sunk back into the water when their eyes briefly met.

_ Odd… _

****

He was given a spare robe – something a little too large for Jyggalag to wear.  _ ‘A mistake,’  _  Jyggalag had argued before Rowan could ask about its origins. Rowan just shrugged the dismissal away as he donned the white fabric, it fitting strangely well on his wide frame.

“Thanks. But, I better get going.”

“You sure?”

It sounded like Jyggalag was almost hoping he would stay, but it must have just been a remnant of the fresh bond affecting him.

“Yeah, have to feed Slaughter. Poor gal hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

“Of course,” replied Jyggalag simply.

Rowan cast one last glance as he began the trek down Jyggalag’s castle steps, finding the traces of a forlorn expression. He glanced back again and found it hadn’t just disappeared.

_ It felt like only yesterday that Jyggalag had tried to eliminate him from Mora’s life. And now…? Now, Jyggalag looked so sad to see him leave… _

Rowan offered a short wave over his shoulder, one that Jyggalag promptly ignored with a huff. He didn’t miss the tiny smile that pulled at the Daedra’s lips though.

_ The Liar… _

****

Rowan closed his front door with a whistle. Jyggalag had called him by name.  _ Jyggalag _ had called him  _ Rowan. _

_ It was kinda… cu- _

He hadn’t been paying attention and tripped on something: a chain lying in wait. Rowan landed on his face, much to the delight of his unexpected visitor.

“GoT yoU!!!” panted Jyggalag’s clone as he knelt to cradle Rowan’s head.

_ Rowan had forgotten about this one… _

Not-Jyggalag suddenly growled, his claws dragging deep lines on either side of him as he flipped positions to have Rowan lying on his back beneath him. “WhY? WHy ARe YoU WEaRiNG his KiMoNO??!!”

In quick motions, Not-Jyggalag tore the fabric from Rowan’s body, not stopping until every scrap was gone.

“BeTtER,” the clone purred, leaning in close to scent him. The satisfied grin disappeared by the time he had finished. Not-Jyggalag cocked his head, confused for a moment. “IsN’t mY mArK oN tHe RigHt?”

Rowan stiffened remembering that the mark the clone had left had been erased, eventually replaced by Mora and an additional one left by Jyggalag. “No… No… It was on the l-left…” he lied, hoping the clone would couldn’t notice the difference between his and Jyggalag’s mark.

Sniffing with a greater suspicion, the clone leaned in closer. “It’S mINe rigHt? IT LooKS liKe miNE… bUT…”

“Fus…”

The clone retreated slightly, but it had been too late.

“FUS ROH DAH!!” The thu’um caught him and launched him backward, scattering everything that Rowan hadn’t nailed down in his home in the meantime.

* * *

Jyggalag entered Apocrypha slowly, guilt still dragging on his heels despite Rowan trying to offer comforting words to the contrary.

“Moramour?”

“Hooo! Jyggy! What can I do for you?” his Amour-a greeted him fondly as multiple eyes swiveled in his direction. A wayward tendril drifted from Moralove’s mass and stroked the side of Jyggalag’s face, tickling over his ear. Moramour had yet to put the book he had been reading down.

“I need to talk to you… about Rowan.”  _ It would be better to have Moralove extract Rowan’s bonding venom now… He wouldn’t dare deal with Mephala again. The witch had caused enough problems…  _

A tendril curled around his outstretched hand. “Ho? Did something happen?”

The guilt was starting to crawl back up his throat; especially as Moramour came to embrace him in his lesser form. “Nothing serious just…”

“Hum?” Moralove pressed closer, more tendrils peeling from his form to circle Jyggalag.

At his continued silence, his Amour-a batted his eyes. He was intent on any knowledge Jyggalag could give him.

“Huuuum?”

Jyggalag could feel his resolve to remain calm shattering. “I let Rowan’s bond take!!! I’m sorry Moralove!!” The words erupted from his mouth before he could stop them.

Moramour was silent, but the grin hadn’t faded from his face. “You too?” A few tendrils wiggled excitedly.

Jyggalag could only let his Amour-a’s words seep in. _‘You… too…?’_ _That meant._ Without meaning to, his eyes snapped to Moramour’s throat, to the bonding site just hidden beneath the edges of his dark-green robe.

His staring didn’t go unnoticed, and Moralove pulled back the edge of his robe revealing Rowan’s unique dual puncture. “He’s almost like a real Daedra, isn’t he?” Moramour sounded so fond of the mark.

It was too much for Jyggalag to process, and he staggered back, eventually to fall on his rear as his legs gave out. 

_ That dumb idiot… _

Jyggalag didn’t know what to think at that point, his fears had just… vanished.

His Amour-a knelt down beside him, Apocrypha shifting to mimic the view from Jyggalag’s home – albeit everything remaining in shades of yellow, black, and green. “Don’t be sour, Love.” Nuzzling into his side, Moralove retrieved the book he had been reading. “He’s young and very oblivious to our ways. But now, he’s our new link.”

Jyggalag huffed, but he couldn’t deny what sharing the same mark meant. Like it or not, both he and Moralove were officially Rowan’s mates…  _ at least, for the next few hundred years. _


	19. A Daedric Vacation [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s a vacation for one, might not be for another. Rowan must contend with his greatest foe yet… the summer heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Tags: Bondage, tentacles, threesome, gender swapping, gender transformation, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin, Hermaeus Mora/Female Dovahkiin, Hermaeus Mora/Male Dovahkiin/Jyggalag, Sheogorath, Dyus
> 
> Kudos out to Skitamine again. This would not have been the monster it is without her constant and awesome input.
> 
> Betaish read. It's super long, I tried to edit the best I could. Going to likely edit again, after my brain has had some time to cool off.

The air was quiet, save for the wind rustling the trees and Rowan’s light padded steps. Even Squid, who was currently perched between his onyx horns, was silent.

His large furred head dipped to pick up the scent he was following. It was faint, and Rowan had already been tricked once earlier… He raised his head again, instead hoping he could catch some movement in his surroundings.

“Rowan!” His ears perked in the direction of the call. It was his _Sil Deinmaar…_ Squid gave him a small jolt, the small creature having detected the errant thought. _Mora had called him,_ Rowan mentally corrected.

“Mate!” he purred, nuzzling gently against Mora with his muzzle - Rowan didn’t want to crush him with his far larger size.

“What are you doing?” His tone was curious more than stern.

_There would be no scolding today._

Rowan’s tail wagged out happily, thumping heavily against the bases of a few tree trunks and sending a small smattering of leaves cascading down.

Squid gave up trying to keep him on his goal, and floated off. _The match was over anyway…_

“Hide Seek!”

Mora gave his nose a few welcome pets. “Oooh? Hide and Seek?”

“Ahmul hidden!”

Rowan’s quick reply was enough to give Mora momentary pause, but there came another voice.

“Rowan!” teased Jyggalag, far closer than Rowan thought his Ahmul had been hiding. “You Lost.”

He glanced up with a whine, finding Jyggalag dangling his legs from a tree. The Daedra hadn’t been there moments earlier.

“You know what? I’ll make you clean all my floors… naked.”

 _Naked? He was already naked…_ Even more now that he had begun shifting back into his hairless, human form - though he remained still fairly massive compared to either of his two mates.

Jyggalag slid from the branch, his hands catching himself as he swung out his legs. His momentum pulled him into a rolling flip as he dropped from his perch, landing on his feet, arms outstretched, and very much aware of his showy maneuver.

His audience remained a little dumbfounded, even more so when he suddenly shouted, “Moramour! Let me hug you!!!”

_Someone was evidently in a good mood… a really good mood._

The next moment the Daedra was hugging Mora. Arms, tendrils, everything tangling in one mass of bodies.

Rowan, feeling a little left out, made a disgruntled noise.

The most he got out of it was Mora flipping his earing, and in a disorienting haze he nearly fell over, only to be braced by Mora’s tendrils. “My Loves! I’m so happy to see you both!!” Mora hugged both Rowan and Jyggalag closer in a bruising grip.

“Good to see you, Mora.” Rowan meant it. Jyggalag would have said so similarly if he could get over his pride and say something. But, the earlier show made it evident he had; in his own way.

The moment was interrupted by a loud thump, Devilag having just fallen out of a tree. He was dazed and unconscious, a clear bite mark on his bum and a strip of black leather woven into his hair.

The disheveled state of the clone instantly drew Mora’s worry.

Rowan leaned toward Jyggalag and cupped his hand over his mouth to whisper, “I see you used Devilag as a decoy…”

The Daedra had nothing to say for himself, his eyes drifting elsewhere as a weak smile tugged on one corner of his lip.

“Cheater,” accused Rowan.

Jyggalag tsked, but it was likely more for Mora stooping to pick Devilag up, the clone somewhat still out of it.

* * *

“Hoo! So you were training Rowan’s sense of smell. Excellent idea!” agreed Moralove, having just been filled in with what they had been up to while Rowan went searching for his scattered clothes.

Jyggalag hummed, unimpressed with his creation clinging to Rowan as the Nord dressed. “That, and his control. We’ve been trying to use some… treats as motivation, though the threat of certain chores has proven equally successful.” He grinned devilishly, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Nord.

_He wasn’t about to forget that Rowan still had a particular chore to perform…_

“I’m glad I won’t miss it then.” His Amour-a threw his hands to the air and uttered a small laugh, much to Rowan’s and Jyggalag’s initial confusion. “I’ve managed to get one week free!!!”

The news was surprising and welcome - Moralove’s usual princely duties giving him a day at most to spend together before he was called away for another week.

“We could even travel somewhere,” said Moramour dreamily, clapping his hands together.

Jyggalag sighed internally. He was going to have to put a bit of a damper on Moramour’s imaginings. “Let me guess… somewhere _hot_ and _humid._ Most likely a swamp.” He loved Moramour, but sometimes his Amour-a was a little too predictable; not to mention a swamp’s overpowering stench would be too difficult for Rowan’s nose to be useful for training. “Moramour… I don’t think such a place would work.”

“But…” whined Moralove, twiddling his fingers together.

“Nor that _Idiot’s_ realm!” His foot tapped out a short irritated beat. Jyggalag would never forgive the moron for taking what should have been his.

Moramour simply made a disgruntled noise.

“What about a hot spring?” offered Jyggalag.

“The ones you prefer always have too much snow around…”

Jyggalag tsked. “Then what? No way are we going to the Hunting Grounds!”

“Not now?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. Jyggalag wouldn’t budge on this one.

“Never?”

“Guys?” Rowan went ignored.

“What’s wrong with here?” Jyggalag’s castle was plenty warm, and his bath always humid. There was plenty for them to do besides...

“It wouldn’t be a trip then,” Moralove argued back, shutting down any plans Jyggalag had started making.

“Guys!?”

Both Moralove and Jyggalag turned, finally acknowledging Rowan’s interruptions.

Shirt rucked up his chest, he had been pressed up against a tree trunk, and his cock pulled free by Jyggalag’s creation. Rowan was breathing heavy, his arousal unfettered as the thing lapped at the bonding site on Rowan’s neck, at _Jyggalag’s_ bonding mark. It should have been impossible yet Rowan was reacting to the abomination’s ministrations.

Moralove, standing beside him, seemed a little more enthralled with the new development. “Hooooh… I suppose you do share certain aspects. Perhaps more than you anticipated.”

Jyggalag tried to remain reasonable, but the moan pulled from Rowan’s lips as he writhed beneath the thing had reason flying from Jyggalag’s mind. It didn’t matter of Rowan’s weak protests, or of the shaky pushing against the abomination’s chest. What mattered to Jyggalag was that they were still _touching._

Ready to beat his creation to death, he raised his fist only to be foiled by several tendrils snaking ahead of him to ensnare the abomination. It whimpered pathetically as it was lifted away; Rowan collapsing red-faced to his knees.

Jyggalag had no choice but to relent once Moralove had involved himself. “No need for violence, Love,” Moramour said, placing a kiss to Jyggalag’s cheek. “He is merely seeking some affection.”

“Well not with Rowan!!!” He hugged Rowan tight and absentmindedly ruffled the Nord’s hair.

Moralove tilted back the abomination’s chin. “Do you give him rewards? Any motivation to behave?”

He tsked. There had been no reason for the… _thing_ to receive anything. It had been undeserving from the first moment of its existence.

“You need to reward him when he behaves, you know,” came Mora’s stern scolding.

* * *

Rowan pushed at Jyggalag. His ears touched with red at the continued close contact. His eyes drifted back to where Mora was currently fondling Devilag, tendrils pinching the clone’s bonding site and a few wrapping around his clothed length.

“I bet he’s spoiling you, and yet he only receives pain. It’s perfectly normal for Dev to jump on every chance to get something.” Mora tugged Devilag closer to capture his lips.

In response, Jyggalag’s grip grew tighter, not to mention his hard… length pressing tighter.

“Jygg your... blade,” complained Rowan.

“It’s deserving of nothing!! It should be lucky that it’s still alive!!” Jyggalag growled over Devilag’s growing sounds of pleasure.

“But Jygg,” started Mora. “Look. He’s like… your little brother.”

Despite Jyggalag’s usual emotionless expression, his mouth twisted to a sneer of disgust. “No way!”

Rowan grinned, a snide, “The naughty one maybe…” leaving his mouth. _Seeing Jyggalag so uncouth for once… It was remarkably amusing._

Devilag squirmed in his bindings, the tendrils around his lower member stopping him from fully releasing. He was painfully swollen, his tip leaking what it could. And, knowing all too well what the was like, Rowan felt near sorry for the clone; though the sight was still somewhat exhilarating.

Mora leaned in, lapping a small trail up Devilag’s throat. “Are you going to be a good boy now?”

In automatic response, a tremor traveled up Devilag’s spine and grew to a full body shake. “Y-Yes,” the clone stuttered weakly, his head falling back as his body went limp.

Jyggalag was far less impressed with the display. “Yes, yes. Now, take your distance!”

 _If Jygg had been a cat, he’d be bristling,_ Rowan thought to himself.

Chuckling, Mora seemed equally amused. “Someone’s a little jealous.”

“Not of that... _Thing!!_ ” Jyggalag defended loudly.

“Aww,” pouted Mora as he cradled the copy closer. “You should call him by his name, Jyggy. Let’s go home Dev.”

Mora turned, and Devilag took the opportunity to smirk and gesture rudely - much to Jyggalag’s annoyance.

“You little…!” the Daedra growled, still unwilling to let go of Rowan.

****

It didn’t take long for Jyggalag to admit he knew of one more place they could try.

A hidden sanctuary. Warded and kept secret since Jyggalag’s time as a Daedric Prince. There had been a separate plan for it; one that never came to fruition.

“Wow…” Rowan was fairly stunned by the sight. Lush tropical vegetation, warm, humid air. Large crystals sprouted up from the water, dotting a consistent perimeter around the island. A few foreign styled buildings dotted the line between beach and trees.

_They definitely weren’t in Skyrim anymore._

He followed the others slowly towards one of the buildings, his boots tapping against the wooden walkway leading deeper into Jyggalag’s sanctuary. The doors rattled open with a clatter.

Already complaining of dust, Jyggalag frowned slightly and entered; first dropping his sandals at the entranceway. He wouldn’t let anyone else enter until they did so similarly.

“It certainly is warm enough, Jyggy. I think I can even dress in something lighter now.”

Both Rowan and Jyggalag turned, finding Mora’s idea of ‘lighter’ clothing consisted of only a decorative black-green cloth wrapped around his waist. No one was going to complain, and definitely not Devilag who had begun rubbing up against Mora’s leg.

With a frustrated shout, Jyggalag marched over to his clone’s side and dragged him away by his collar. Devilag didn’t go quietly, growling and shrieking until both Daedra disappeared somewhere outside.

****

“Are you sure? I can help with the cleaning…”

“No. It’s our job,” insisted Jyggalag as he continued sweeping. “Just enjoy the show…”

 _Show? Was that what Jyggalag was calling it…?_ Rowan continued wiping down the floor, trying to ignore the fact that he was naked. _At least he wasn’t as hot anymore…_ though the heat on his face was just as bad.

He stopped for a moment, only to hear Jyggalag’s voice abruptly reprimanding him for stopping. “I want to hear those bells ringing, Rowan.”

Rowan was pretty sure he couldn’t get any redder, the bells in question being the ones tied around his cock and balls.

“Be glad you aren’t sharing _its_ fate…” Jyggalag commented, sensing Rowan’s internal complaint.

All Rowan could think was, _Poor Dev_.

The clone had been dragged to the outhouse, and he could only guess what Jyggalag had done to him. He considered himself lucky by comparison.

Each pass of the cloth, every motion he made, seemed to cause the bells to ring out and every quiet chime was near-enough to make Rowan quit the whole thing. But, it had been their deal, and he had lost. Regardless of Jyggalag’s cheating, getting his dragon side under control was not something he could manage on his own.

Mora seemed far less dissuaded by the soft tinkle, his eyes following every embarrassed shake of Rowan’s backside.

A sudden chime announced an unexpected… visitor, the tendril having slithered undetected across the hardwood to end up in Rowan’s unprotected hole. He stopped and instinctually sat back into it, an aroused quake traveling up his spine as the action drove Mora’s appendage deeper.

“Rowan! Stop slacking off,” scolded Jyggalag, completely unaware of the tendril coiling inside of Rowan, pressing against his insides in all the right places.

It continued to thrust in and out, even as Rowan glanced over his shoulder to Mora lounging in the hot sun, a sly smile on his face that spread when their eyes connected.

_Shit. Shit… Mora was definitely enjoying more than just the view._

He could feel his face heating further, especially as a separate tendril wrapped around his cock to rub and coax his length to full hardness. He had moved the damp cloth in his hands to subtly cover himself.

“Rowan…” growled Jyggalag, noting that he had yet to return to cleaning.

“I’m cleaning! I’m cleaning!” Rowan bent forward again, the tendrils subvertly continuing to pleasure him. His fists curled tighter around the damp cloth, his body tightening as he tried to ignore Mora’s touches. The way they wrapped and massaged his member. The way they stroked over that particularly sensitive spot inside him. There was no way he could tell Jyggalag. Cleaning was supposed to be a... _‘punishment’._

The jingle of bells accompanied every thrust, every push and pull of his body against the slicked tendril; wiping the floor clean had simply become a byproduct of… whatever Mora had made this. Rowan could feel his temperature rising, could feel the sweat beading along his back and forehead. He was no longer sure if it had been brought on by Mora or by the heat of Jyggalag’s sanctuary.

Then nothing mattered.

He came, his heart beat rising rapidly with his orgasm. His length spilled its load energetically, yet… _not a drop hit the hardwood?_ The tendrils retreated, one lingering to stroke over his spine in a manner that silently said _‘good boy’_. His body spasmed with the residual pleasure and he collapsed, the day’s heat finally getting to him.

“I know it’s hard for you with such… heat…” came Jyggalag’s voice.

Rowan’s vision continued to spin, eventually to turn black.

* * *

Free of his obligations for the week, Squid, as he was called by his charge, decided to spend his time exploring the rude one’s sanctuary - or at least the underwater part of it, as was want of his nature.

The water was warm, pleasant to his skin and quite clear despite the many colorful morsels that called it home. There were many interesting nooks to explore, and the vibrant coral looked very inviting.

Then he saw her. A gorgeous, divine being without any measure. Two soulful eyes that he could get lost in. Brilliant orange skin - unblemished by her luxurious home of lush kelp and white sand. The way her eight - EIGHT - tentacles rolled in graceful motions across the ocean’s floor… He knew he was in love.

Mustering all the charm he had, he dared to approach her.

* * *

Rowan roused slowly with lukewarm water lapping at his ears, his head supported by Jyggalag’s arms as the Daedra himself floated behind.

There was a discussion being made around him, but he could only catch bits and pieces of it.

“Oh no. Was it too much for him?” came Mora’s concerned voice.

“I’m sorry. I thought he could at least handle minor cleaning…” A gentle thumb traced his cheek.

_Jygg?_

There was a continuous buzz to the conversation, until he was coherent enough to understand it - Devilag had been screaming profanities and calling for blood. The copy’s most recent rantings, devolving into a hysterical chant of, “It’s your fault. It’s all your fault.” The only thing stopping the clone from launching at Jyggalag in his fury, was Mora’s tendrils wrapped tightly around his lithe body.

Mora quieted the shouting down completely when he offered the clone a half coconut shell. “Why don’t you let this cool that head of yours, Devi. It was made by Rowan.”

_Wait… What? Rowan hadn’t made anyth-_

_Earlier…_ When he thought he should have made a mess on the hardwood. The reason he hadn’t spilled against the floor… “Haaa…” Rowan started struggling to get himself upright in the water, only to be coddled closer into Jyggalag’s embrace.

“Shhh…” the Daedra tried to assure him. “Everything is alright. Relax.”

Rowan suspected Jyggalag might not being saying that if he had been aware of what his clone was dancing away with. The thought was enough to turn his face red again.

“You really are terrible with hot weather. Knowing your affinity to Skyrim’s atrocious cold, I should have known better…”

“Huh?” It sounded far too much like Jyggalag was beating himself up over the minimal chore he had assigned Rowan. While it had been fairly warm to do any sort of work in the day’s heat, it was hardly the reason for his collapse. _That,_ he blamed an overzealous Prince of Knowledge for.

“So… no more cleaning for you. I’ll have to think of some other punishment for you. Preferably something less taxing for your _delicate_ nature.” The Daedra smirked slightly, pressing his cheek to Rowan’s.

“Hey!” Rowan was hardly _‘delicate’_ by any sense of the word. Just... he would rather sleep when it got hot.

Finding he could reach the bottom of the pool, he didn’t need Jyggalag to support him in the water anymore and awkwardly waded away from the Daedra.

“Can I get my clothes back now?” Rowan asked as the Daedra departed similarly.

Jyggalag stopped at the edge of the pool, his hands ready to hoist himself up and out.

Rowan couldn’t tell what Jyggalag’s expression was, but judging from Mora’s sudden mischievous grin, he could guess it was similar. Especially when both answered, “Sure,” at the same time.

****

Rowan had yet to leave the pool as he pondered the scrap of cloth he had been given - scrap maybe being to generous a word for it. It was a small, blue triangle, its corners tied to one another with thin string. He could confidently say it hadn’t been a part of his wardrobe.

“Very funny. I swear I was wearing more than this…”

“There was nothing else,” said Jyggalag innocently enough as he tugged a thin robe over his shoulders. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to pass out again, do you?”

Rowan frowned at the cloth again. He really wouldn’t be able to bargain for more clothes from either of the Daedra. Especially when they were working together.

Without another word, he tugged the fabric underwater and slipped it on. It might be petty, but depriving both leering Daedra of anything at this point was a small victory in his favor.

Once dressed, he reluctantly pulled himself out of the pool. “Happy?” He asked his audience, already strongly disliking the wolf-whistles and sly grins.

* * *

She was a shy creature, fleeing the moment he got close in a torrent of jettisoned ink. Squid stared momentarily, a little stunned and surprised. He had thought she would at least let him introduce himself.

Maybe she was shy. _Yes, that was it._ He wouldn’t be dissuaded by something so small.

Off he went in his continued pursuit of love.

* * *

Somehow, Rowan had survived to nightfall in the skimpy amount of clothes, the shame of it fading after a few hours - though it seemed the surprises wouldn’t stop when the sun went down.

_Sweet Talos!_

Mora had been put in charge of preparing a sleeping room for all of them, as he had wanted to do something, but perhaps they should have been more resistant. Red flowers decorated the floor - roses in particular - and instead of separate beds, a large mattress had been laid across the floor with four pillows. Someone expected them to share the space, and Rowan could only guess how badly that was going to go.

“Moramour?” started Jyggalag slowly.

“Hmm?” Mora turned, his eyes wide with expectation. He had obviously put a lot of thought and effort into his work, but…

“When I asked you to take care of the bedding…”

Mora’s expression fell. Seemed like he was maybe just now seeing what Jyggalag and Rowan had spotted the moment they walked in. “Oh no… I did something wrong, didn’t I?”

“Moralove. It’s not-”

Devilag, as always, saw an opportunity and took it. “I’m gonna sleep next to my spouse!” The copy launched himself at Rowan’s waist, and hugged him tightly.

Jyggalag turned with a growl rising in his chest. “I don’t think so, _Trash!”_

“Just you try to separate us…” returned Devilag, squeezing Rowan just that much tighter.

“Oh, I will…”

Unbeknownst to either grey-skinned Daedra, Mora was watching with interest. He hid a smile as twin tendrils snaked around their ankles to drag them away from Rowan. Both smashed their chins against the floor, and were then slung in a dizzying circle. “Let’s let Rowan rest tonight. He needs it. I, on the other hand, have lots of stamina for a mage.”

A tendril offered a pat to Rowan’s head as another pushed him from the room. He didn’t need to be told twice to leave.

****

The twin moons illuminated the sand in subtle silver, joined by a subtle blue glow of the many crystals that rose from the water. An even larger crystal - once hidden by the islands flora - stood tall at the land’s center.

“Wow.” And, Rowan thought he couldn’t get any more impressed.

“Rowan!” called… _Mora?_ The Daedric Prince had shifted female sometime between dealing with the ‘twins’ and the beachfront, her generous breasts bouncing with each slow step. She had removed her hair tie that she had been using earlier, and the cool breeze coming off the waterfront was whipping her loose, paper-white hair about her shoulders.

“Mora!” he shouted back, just beginning to move towards the Prince. It’d take too long if he decided to let Mora come to him instead.

_Though it seemed Mora had her own ideas on how to fix that._

A tendril shot out and quickly wrapped around his waist to yank him forward before he could voice his surprise. He landed awkwardly, face pressed between her barely covered breasts. Rowan could immediately feel his face warm as he fought to extract himself from Mora’s abrupt embrace.

“Rowan… At last we are alo-.”

Rowan leaned in to steal a kiss from the Prince’s lips, having been so deprived for so long. He wouldn’t dare be so bold in front of any sort of audience.

The tendril around his waist loosened, instead choosing to coil around his arm towards his neck; to cup the back of his head and press his lips even tighter against Mora’s own. Her hands traced his shoulders to smooth over aged scars and pale skin. She hugged him close, her naturally cool body siphoning his heat.

_It felt good and would’ve been even more welcome under the sun._

But, her coolness shifted with her growing need. The fires of want warming her body more than Rowan’s proximity would. Their lips parted only briefly, enough for Rowan to draw a breath, before continuing with small nips.

They parted fully, their lust for each other momentarily sated, and knock foreheads lightly. It was Rowan broke the following silence first. “So you finished them off?”

Mora chuckled, perhaps sensing just a little of his jealousy. “Yes. The twins are out for now. It’s just us.”

It was Rowan’s turn to laugh as he could only guess the disheveled state Mora had left Devilag and Jyggalag. Perhaps even encouraged them to snuggle each other in Mora’s absence. Rowan would love to see that, even if Jyggalag would probably snap when he woke due to the close proximity to his clone.

Rowan and Mora separated only slightly, to walk along the beach hand-in-hand. Their footprints indistinguishable trenches that were washed away by the soft surf.

Mora headed towards deeper water, and Rowan slipped his hand free. The Prince took a few more steps before she turned back to him - she was already waist deep. “Rowan?”

His hand remained awkwardly in front of him, hovering slightly as it clenched and unclenched subtly. He wanted to follow _but…_ “I can’t swim…” _Or at least well enough to venture into deeper water._

Mora slunk lower in the water. A single hand breached its rippling surface to beckon Rowan closer. “You’ll be safe with me, Love.”

Rowan’s eyes turned downcast, even as a tendril smoothed over his cheek. “I know, but…”

The tendril slid to his jaw and traced along the bone to tap his chin. His eyes clenched tight, and he made his decision.

“Good boy,” Mora encouraged another few tendrils snaking from the water’s edge to coil around his calves and ankles. “Just a little more.”

Surprisingly, the tendrils were there to support him, the black-green appendages climbing higher as he traveled deeper. A wave threatened to knock him over, but the tendrils successfully braced him against it.

“Got you.” Rowan was welcomed closer by another tendril curling around his wrist as Mora finally took his hand.

A tap of a slender finger against her lips followed the briefest murmur of a spell - the faint blue glow disappearing as fast as Rowan could notice it. In the next moment, they were kissing again, Rowan sinking into the feel of Mora’s plush lips… Until something brush past his ear. His eyes shot open and he saw what it had been.

A fish, slow-moving and unused to predators.

Rowan panicked then, the tendrils circling his legs to hold him under, did little to calm him. He swung his arms frantically, trying desperately to climb back to the air above.

It had yet to occur to him that he could breathe.

“Rowan… Come.”

For a moment, Rowan stopped panicking. He was too enamored by how Mora looked in the clear water. Her hair floated about her head in a way that looked almost goddess-like; her mass of tendrils forming a living cape behind her.

“You are safe with me,” she tried to assure him.

But, the moment had passed.

Panic returned once more in full force, especially when whatever enchantment Mora had cast had just expired.

“Rowan?”

A moment passed, and Rowan continued his struggle against the water, against his need of air. The last bubbles passed through his lips, and his movements slowed.

“Rowan!”

He was rushed to the surface in a flurry of bubbles, Mora somehow able to propel through the water far faster than she had ever moved on land.

****

He coughed, the water already carefully purged from his lungs. Only a burning sensation remained from the near-death experience - not that he could exactly die anymore.

The feeling of having his head raised was oddly familiar, especially the almost drowning first part. Rowan could almost say he was feeling nostalgic. He cracked an eye open as the hands stroked through his damp hair to occasionally run over his stubble. “You didn’t run this time…” he said with an exhausted grin.

The hands froze as a slight blush touched his Prince’s face. “Sorry, Rowan. I had gotten tied up in the moment…” Mora’s dejected face wasn’t very attractive.

Slowly, he reached up, Mora bending forward enough that he didn’t have to stretch far to reach her cheek.

“Rowan… I…”

He didn’t want Mora’s apology, he already knew how sorry the Daedric Prince was. Rowan just wanted Mora to enjoy their time together, so he did what first came to mind. He pinched Mora’s cheek. Hard. _Maybe just a tad vengeful._

“Oww,” winced Mora.

But, Rowan wasn’t done yet. He pinched again, though the Daedric Prince was less inclined to sit still this time. “That was for the salt water I swallowed.” Pinch. “And, this was for earlier.” _Alright… maybe more than just a tad vengeful._

Mora was in full retreat, her tendrils trying to hold back Rowan’s pinching fingers. “Are you a mudcrab?”

“Maybe if you trace my bloodline far enough,” joked Rowan, intent to see how far he could take his teasing.

* * *

Dawn arrived announcing the second day of Mora’s weeklong vacation, and Jyggalag was comfy despite the lack of a blanket. He didn’t even mind the second body curled up against him to share body warmth, at least until he realized who it had to be considering neither Moralove nor Rowan returned for the night.

His claws extended as he tried to remain rational, but the sleepy mumble into his shoulder had him snapping. He turned with a snarl, drawing a similar startled snarl from his creation.

* * *

Suddenly, shouted profanities broke the established silence, and Mora smiled as he took another sip of his morning tea.

“Sounds like they woke up.”

Rowan said nothing, not that he had to. Devilag entered moments later with a few fresh bruises and scratches dotting his torso. He had a wobble to his step as he groggily greeted them… _naked._ For some reason the copy decided to join them naked.

 _Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t-_ But it was really hard considering Devilag was purposefully posing at Rowan’s eye level.

“Morning’,” mumbled Rowan averting his eyes as red crept up his neck.

Mora seemed less averse to how the copy was dressed, and rose to give a hug with his morning greeting.

“I’m GoNNa mAkE bREakFasT.” The smirk Devilag offered Rowan as the copy headed into the adjacent kitchen, made it clear he had caught Rowan’s occasional glances and the resulting blush.

With an excited wiggle, Mora stood and headed towards the bedroom. “I’m going to _check_ on Jyggalag. You should go assist Dev… about you-know-what.”

He could feel the cold sweat begin to dapple his forehead and back. There was no way Mora’s ‘plan’ was as innocent as the Prince made it out to be. But, Mora would find a different way if he didn’t comply, likely even make it more embarrassing for him.

_No choice then…_

With a sigh, he stood and trailed after Devilag. “Hey, Dev? Do you need any he _lp_!” His voice raised to a slight shriek as he had been very unprepared for the sight of Devilag dressed in only an apron, bending to grab something from a low cupboard. Walking in that close to the clone’s rear, the bruising on his bottom looked far closer to hhandprintsthan accidental marking. Rowan tried not to think of how they got there.

For once, Devilag didn’t seem to notice his abrupt shift in pitch as he continued to slice up some kind of exotic fruit that Rowan had seen growing along the island earlier. “No nEeD. EVerYoNe KnOwS yOur cOOkiNg iS tErriBLe.”

The copy’s words were like a stab to the heart. He honestly didn’t think he was as bad a cook as everyone kept making him out to be.

 _Well, he shouldn’t really let it get to him._ It would only be natural that Devilag’s sensitive palate would be similar to Jyggalag’s. _Maybe cooking was something inherent to both Daedra._

Tsking slightly, Rowan ran a thumb along his nose. “I suppose it’s more of your thing… Like walking around NAKED! Put some clothes on!” He teasingly moved closer to swat the clone on the back. But, Rowan had misjudged his swing. His hand missing the copy’s back and instead, striking Devilag’s very bare bottom. He stared momentarily at his traitorous hand, thinking one simple thought, _Shiiiit._

The knife in Devilag’s hand stilled as a slight tremble traveled up along the copy’s body.

“I pRomiSEd tO Be A goOd bOy…” His knife finally finished its slice after the momentary silence. It hit the wooden cutting board with a quiet ‘tchak’. “BuUUut iF yoU aRe So wiLLing, I caN bEnd fOr you.” The clone started chopping again at a quicker rate, gradually speeding up as the seconds passed by.

Rowan remained quiet, the situation he got himself into slowly shifting from bad to worse.

“JuST, GO aheAd LoOvE!” Whatever Devilag had been cutting had been reduced to a fine pulp, the knife showing no signs of slowing.

Then, it did and stopped.

The clone spun, the blade pointed dangerously towards Rowan’s abdomen. “JuSt TAke mE LikE an unFaiThfUL WiFe! I’m reaDY, LoVE!”

He took that as his cue to start running from the crazed clone.

* * *

It had been a long time. Far too long since he had held Moralove in his arms, felt his Amour-a’s taste on his lips. Jyggalag could pretend for a moment that nothing else existed. Nothing… save for rushing footsteps and a terrified shout moving in their direction.

Rowan burst into the room, a desperate look in his eyes as he pleaded, “Help!” and ran into Jyggalag’s confused arms.

The chasing cackle made it easy to guess why Rowan was behaving so peculiarly, especially considering the knife his creation was brandishing - the frilled apron put Jyggalag at a loss though.

“TAke ME! tAKe mE!” His creation demanded through fits of deranged giggles.

Rowan, desperate to put some space between himself and the thing, ducked behind Jyggalag. “Save me!”

It appeared that Jyggalag didn’t have to do anything as his creation ground to a screeching halt. As much as Jyggalag would have enjoyed the excuse to finally end the thing’s miserable existence, a different issue made itself known: Rowan had transformed into her other half.

“Oh…” came Moralove’s slow response.

“What are you waiting- Ah… AHH!” exclaimed Rowi, finally realizing why the thing had momentarily stopped pursuing her. Her hands cupped quickly over her chest, but she had been too slow in recovering the bottom half of her minimalist ensemble. It had easily fallen to the ground around her feet. “Not again!!!”

Thinking fast, Jyggalag grabbed a blanket and wrapped it tight around her now-thin shoulders. He hoped the abomination hadn’t had enough time to see everything.

However, his sudden protectiveness didn’t go unnoticed by Moramour.

“I feel like I’m missing something about the two of you… Has something happened that I am unaware of?” The air had grown colder as Moralove grew more serious; more curious about the relationship that had somehow developed in his frequent absences.

_He would need to diffuse this quickly..._

“Of course,” answered Jyggalag flatly, subtly tugging Rowi closer and away from the abomination that had taken an interest. “You are rarely around. Things happen while you are away.” Jyggalag snarled unconsciously at his creation who had snuck closer with his brief distraction. They locked eyes and sparks rose between them.

Meanwhile, his Amour-a remained stone-faced for a moment more before the writhing bed of tendrils that had sprouted with his rising anger, drooped. “I really do miss too much,” Moralove lamented sadly.

Jyggalag relented and gave a joint hug to his Amour-a and Rowi. His creation accepted the break in their argument, but just barely. “But, not this time,” assured Jyggalag, laying a kiss to Moralove’s cheek. He noticed then why his creation was so accepting of breaking up the fight: he was discretely snuggling up against Moramour’s opposite side.

Moramour seemed to appreciate the extra attention, so Jyggalag let it slide… _this time._ “Aww, you’re sweet.”

_Looks like the Moramour crisis was averted._

“Hmm… Going to find something for her to wear…” He nudged Rowi to walk with him, bumping her with his hip.

“Use the ring!!!” she hissed under her breath.

“I didn’t bring it along! I can’t help it if you switch when over-stressed,” he whispered back, bending down to her ear. “Besides… I’ve missed the cute you.” Jyggalag can’t help his hands moving to cup Rowi’s breast, or the fingers that pinched its sensitive nub.

His actions were interrupted by several insistent pokes to his back, and he froze in turn. “I think I’m going to come too,” said Moralove.

“And what of the _thing?”_ He still refused to acknowledge the name his creation had taken.

“Don’t worry. I just got in a few words with him, and now…? Well, he won’t be available for some time.”

Rowi and Jyggalag glanced back into the room they had just left, finding the abomination tangled in Moralove’s tendrils. The thing’s hips thrust up wantingly as it was fucked from both ends.

****

“Disgusting,” said Jyggalag at the display.

Rowan turned red at the lustful sight, but something brushing between her legs turned her rigid. She adjusted the blanket wrapped around her shoulders subtly to look down. A separate tendril was rubbing up against the lips of her heat, its clustered nubs pressing tantalizingly deeper but never enough to satisfy.

_Mora….!_

Concerned, Jyggalag glanced over at her to ask, “Are you alright? You’re all tense…”

“I’m fine-” Her voice jumped an octave as the tendril took a moment to press harder, her blush rapidly spreading over her cheeks and ears. Fortunately, Jyggalag didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll wait here, okay?”

Reluctantly, Jyggalag pulled away - not that Rowan was still paying attention as the tendril picked up its pace, to rub her heat even faster, its nubs catching and tugging on sensitive flesh. “Stay here with Moramour then. I’ll be quick.”

Mora had the nerve to rub small circles into her back with his thumb as he held her shoulder. His other hand waved a quick goodbye as Jyggalag disappeared elsewhere.

She trembled slightly as Mora bent in for a kiss, her embarrassment now fully evident on her face.

“Rowaaaan,” Mora dragged out, his hand peeling back the weak defense of the blanket. “I’ve got some new things to try out…” A thin tendril coiled around her breast, as others moved in - each eager to play. “So many new ways to make you spill the beans.”

More tendrils snaked around her limbs, her waist. Enough to lift her into the air as Mora transformed back to his amorphous self. The tendril between her legs gave one last stroke before slipping away, being replaced by something far larger. It prodded between her legs, teasing her entrance before its tapered tip decidedly pushed in to curl deeper. She wasn’t sure if she should protest Mora’s treatment, but she was already so wet and in desperate want. Thin twin tendrils circled her temples, their pointed tips just a hair's breadth from piercing into her skull.

“It’s not good to keep knowledge from me Rowan… Things could have gotten dangerous for you.” The tendrils, while menacing, held no threat. They retreated; Mora having no real intention of using them.

_A reminder then, of his prior nature. Of the time when he could, and would, have drawn any knowledge he desired forcibly from his victims._

“What then, Mora? You don’t have your pools.”

“A minor inconvenience only… at least with you.”

Following his words, a tendril draped over her face, her Daedric eye giving a slight throb in resonance with Mora’s limb.

“It won’t be the best I’m afraid. Far too much static if you’re thinking. But, we know how to fix that… don’t we.”

She gulped, a combination of heat from their environment and her own embarrassment turning her a deeper shade of red. If she had any complaints, Mora was giving her the opportunity to voice them now. The fat mass inside her throbbed with anticipation - and of future promise.

Rowan ultimately couldn’t find one, after all, it was only fair Mora knew what she and Jyggalag had been up to during Mora’s frequent absences. A separate tendril passed tenderly over her lips, and she pressed a kiss to it to seal the deal. It returned to push into her mouth, to wriggle down her throat as the one deep in her heat started moving. To drag out slowly and thrust back in with surprising speed. The motion repeated with quick and thorough successions.

Her body arched with every pounding thrust, every gentle caress that slid up and down her softened belly and played with her small sensitive breasts. She twitched as a moan was pulled from her muffled lips.

Mora knew her body too well.

“Now that you’re warmed up… What happened with Jyggalag? Don’t resist Rowan. I want to know everything!!!”

This time felt different. She could feel Mora rooting around in her head, each thought and memory playing out in her Daedric eye for Mora to see.

_Jyggalag’s sniveling face - an expression even now a rarity. ‘Really…? Not even Hermaeus Mora?’_

_And her answering reply, ‘Especially not Mora.’_

_Or Jyggalag’s rounded hips, her body, soft and pliable, yet a male member between her legs. ‘Let’s not give any bad ideas to Moralove.’_

“Unbelievable…” mumbled Mora, more focused on her memories than the muffled mewls and moans of pleasure his tendrils were pulling from her. The images were flicking by faster now. Especially since Mora had started detecting a familiar theme of hidden secrets between Jyggalag and Rowan.

_The flower she kept, even now, hidden in a lockbox._

_Jyggalag’s rocking hips as Rowan thrust into him, ‘My Ahmul…’_

_‘Don’t… Don’t call me that.’_

She had been flipped onto her belly; the knobbled length continued to thrust in and out of her heat. It had grown fatter with Mora’s own arousal and wasn’t about to let up until it was finished. Two nubbed tendrils kneaded and continually rubbed her breasts as the separate tendril in her mouth had begun leaking down her throat.

_‘What is with that shape?!’_

_‘My turn?’ Sanguine’s voice, and Jyggalag’s answering silence as she was taken away… And, Jyggalag’s eventual rescue._

_‘I... dislike Sanguine’s methods. Had I known...’_

_‘How in Oblivion did you not know his intentions?’_

The tendrils paused their pleasuring as the implications of what Mora had just uncovered sunk in. They began trembling soon after with his bubbling anger. “UNFoRGiVABLE” Mora muttered. His rage grew undeniable in the next moment, but it wasn’t directed at Rowan. Never had been. Each motion Mora’s limbs made were to pleasure her, to keep her mind blank as she sank into deeper into her lust.

Maybe that had been why. She had felt hot all day, and the exercise certainly wasn’t helping. Her face had flushed a deep crimson hue, and her heart was pounding in her chest, strangely mimicking the tendril pounding into her heat, coiling into her core before retreating and replicating the process.

There was only one thought Rowan managed before passing out… _F...Forgive me, Jygg…_

****

An encompassing feel of cool weightlessness followed the black.

_Huh… Oh… Again._

Rowan was back in the pool, water lapping up around her ears. A tendril was coiled loosely around her neck, ensuring she wouldn’t drown. She whimpered more because of the stiffness in her joints, but Mora hushed her as if worried she had been frightened.

“Rowan… Don’t be scared. I’m not mad at you. I can’t be.” Cool hands stroked up the sides of her flushed face, her earlier fever finally breaking. “I know I went a bit overboard, but these secrets you are keeping from me are making me crazy. I don’t like you getting hurt…” He pressed his nose into her damp hair, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there for you, but Jygg should have kept you safe, and yet...”

Mora laid a kiss to her temple.

“Someone needs a little punishment. Will you help me Rowan?”

Her eye flicked from Mora’s eyes to his smile. It all seemed a little forced; like Mora was seconds away from seeking some sort of immediate vengeance. She was thankful it wasn’t aimed at her, but couldn’t help being a little worried and guilty for its actual target.

“Nothing too serious,” Mora assured her. “Just a little trick. Enough to corner Jygg so we can see his sorry face. Dev has already agreed to play, so…?”

_Play…?_

She nodded hesitantly, knowing the sooner this was over the sooner Mora would go back to normal, and they could continue their weeklong vacation.

“Good,” Mora purred, his smile turning genuine as it also turned mischievous.

“Hey!” started a voice behind her. She startled and risked a glance over her shoulder. It was Jyggalag. “I was getting worried when I couldn’t find the both of you. Did something happen?”

Mora was quick to respond. “Rowan collapsed again. I brought her here to recover.”

“Oh,” said Jyggalag with just a hint of worry. “Are you feeling better?”

“Ye- Yes…” she answered, knowing Mora was still very close by as a tendril curled over her shoulder.

“Did you manage to find her clothes?” This time Mora’s hand crept up her other shoulder.

“About that! Would you believe that I had to visit Dyus on the other shore to find something even remotely close to her size?!”

“That must have been some hardship, Love…” Mora drawled. His expression told her, he might have had something to do about that.

Jyggalag didn’t seem to notice as he helped her out and dried her down.

She smoothed out the white fabric that stopped at her waist. The skirt Jyggalag had found rode low on her hips, but managed to cover enough that she couldn’t instantly complain about it. _Besides, compared to what both Mora and Jyggalag had given her male counterpart to wear, this was a luxury._

“This… This is actually nice. Thanks, Jygg.”

“Don’t thank me completely. I had to get Dyus to make a few adjustments. He deserves some praise too.”

The Daedra gave her one last look over, then headed back to the beachside house. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get dinner started.”

“Oh, can I help?” Rowan offered. _Maybe some time to cool down might help Mora out…_

“Sure. Go fetch some fruits and flowers with Mora. Everything should be safe for eating, so you won’t have to worry about what you are picking.”

It took Rowan a scant second to respond. She had implied helping Jyggalag away from Mora, but she had just been pushed away.

_Did Jyggalag already suspect?_

“Got it,” she finally replied.

Mora gave a similar response, though far colder despite his smile. “Okay.”

The sliding door closed behind the Daedra, leaving Rowan once more alone with Mora.

* * *

Jyggalag worried his thumbnail between his teeth. Something was definitely distracting Moralove, and not in a good way. He has lived far too long knowing his Amour-a to not recognize the signs.

He was suddenly struck by a worse thought, one that involved Rowi’s guilty glances.

_I’m dead!!!_

* * *

_Ahhh…_ There she lay, basking in the shallows as the moonlight played off her fire-brilliant skin. Her eight limbs flowed about her like a goddess’ gown, shifting and coiling with the tug of the currents. She was at peace.

He waited with baited breath for but a scarce second, just simply wanting to take the time to engrave this moment into eternity.

Squid pulled himself back together, and slid closer, but not enough to startle the magnificent vixen he was to woo. _“The moon is so beautiful tonight, no?”_

She startled at his voice, the chirruped squeak, muffled and distorted by the water.

Again, she fled. And, again he would pursue her. She had yet to say ‘no’ after all.

* * *

“Wow! That was so good!” chimed Rowi, setting her plate down after her third helping - if she had been male he would have expected her to make it to a fifth.

“I bet you get to say that every day, Roro,” added Moralove, the jealousy in his tone not as hidden as he intended.

“Thanks…” replied Jyggalag. Moramour’s mood hadn’t shifted at all over the course of their meal, and the dread of what was to come kept building.

“Oh, Jyggy?”

Jyggalag gulped discreetly.

“How about a little game for tonight?”

All eyes fell on Jyggalag, their faces more telling than any words could be. Rowi was the first to look back to the table, but his creation only grinned - eager for whatever ‘game’ had been planned for the evening.

“A game…” Jyggalag repeated warily.

“Count me in,” the abomination eagerly chimed in.

“Thanks, Dev. Roro?”

Again, Rowi answered slowly. “Why not Mora?”

_This was it then…_

His fist clenched as he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. “So be it… What do you propose?”

“Truth or Dare!” Moralove announced, with more than a little giggled malice.

Jyggalag felt his eye twitch, especially when he recognized the pendant his Amour-a pulled forward.

“Look, I brought truth amulets! They’ll shine if you’re not honest!”

_Shit…_

Those amulets were rare and immensely hard to come by on short notice. Moramour had obviously planned for the game far in advance.

_This… This isn’t going to go well for him. Not with Moralove in the mood he is in…_

****

“Aaand, it’s Rowan,” Moralove cheered ecstatically as the bottle stopped spinning, its neck pointing to where Rowi was seated.

“Oh no! Not again…” She deliberated for a few seconds before answering. The last time she had picked ‘truth’ and ended up with a fairly innocent question, but it had her blushing for a solid hour after she had answered. Jyggalag would have enjoyed it more, had his creation not been swooning over it. “Da- Dare!!” Rowi shouted, her eyes squeezing shut.

As it happened, it was Moralove’s turn to dare. “Heee. Kiss Dev on the lips,” he declared raising a hand to his lips with his excitement.

 _Wait…_ _Kiss!?!?_ Jyggalag wasn’t prepared. Couldn’t have prepared himself for the sight before him. His teeth ground together as his expression grew dark. It took everything he had to remain where he was seated as the disgusting display played out before his eyes.

Rowi and the thing parted, his abomination licking its lips as it sat back down.

Jyggalag’s fingers had dug so hard into the low table, he barely registered that the bottle had been spun again - this time landing on him.

“Jyggy!” his Moramour announced.

“Truth,” he ground out between tight teeth.

His Amour-a leaned over Rowi. “Oooh. It’s your turn to ask… _Rowi._ ”

Rowi didn’t seem to notice the switch in name, Moralove had used, but Jyggalag certainly did.

Jyggalag had never used the name in front of Moralove. Never had a chance to, nor thought of doing so. The fact Moramour knew it at all, was reason to worry.

She fumbled with a piece of paper in her hand - it having been crumpled and scrunched with her prior frequent handling. “Hum... “ Rowi cleared her throat, a deep red blooming on her cheeks. “So… Is your… your… pussystillvirgin?”

“What?!” he asked, more for the question itself rather than the sudden blurt of noise it had been delivered in.

“Oh ho. Answer Jyggy, or it’ll count as telling a lie.” His Amour-a was clearly enjoying both his and Rowi’s discomfort.

“You already know the answer to that…” Jyggalag replied, his own blush creeping into the tips of his ears.

“That’s not answering the question,” warned his Amour-a in sing-song.

The blue hue spread rapidly from his ears to the rest of his face. “Yes! Happy?!” His answer seemed to pull his breath away, and he was panting as he wrestled his emotions back under control.

Moramour seemed to accept his answer and was already spinning the bottle for another go. “Next.”

Each slowing rotation brought further dread, and when it finally stopped it didn’t help that the bottle's neck was facing him… again.

“Jyggy!” cheered Moralove.

“Truth,” Jyggalag answered quickly. He could deal with answering a few questions. It was the dares Moralove had planned for him that he was more worried about.

“Dev…?” This time Moramour didn’t even hide the slip of paper he handed Jyggalag’s all-too-eager creation.

“With pleasure, Hermaluv.” The abomination grinned, and let out a disgusting chortle. The laugh died when its eyes caught sight of the words written. A snarl replaced its smile, and a fang just started to bare itself. “Between you and Rowan… who confessed first?”

 _That question was fairly… safe._ Surprised at the questions tameness, Jyggalag answered without thinking. “No one did.”

His pendant immediately shone amber, marking a lie.

_What?!?!_

The shock must have been evident on his face because Rowi was quick to answer with a quiet. “I didn’t confess to Jygg…” Her amulet remained unlit.

“I didn’t confess.” Again his amulet shone. This time even brighter than it had before. “I didn’t!” Jyggalag claimed again. And, again his amulet shone relentlessly.

All eyes were one him, not a single person believing he was telling the truth. He searched his memories, finding only one instance. He had been dreaming… _surely that didn’t count…_ But, the bright red light dangling around his neck told him it did. _But why... ? No one could have… No…_ Jyggalag’s eyes swiveled to Moralove, finding his expression had darkened considerably. _He had been set up… Even more so than he thought he had been._

“Ready for your pledge?”

Jyggalag was sure he wouldn’t be. They hadn’t agreed on what the punishment would be for failing to follow the rules, but it seemed like Moralove had that planned out as well.

His Amour-a had slipped a familiar onto his finger. Sanguine’s ring. “I hope you’re ready Jyggalag… to spend the next five days as a female.” The words were delivered coldly, without feeling.

_Why did Moralove have that ring? How did Moralove have that ring?_

“Why?” Tendrils slithered up his sides to coil and slink around his face.

“You know why!” he hissed, a tendril tightening around Jyggalag’s arm to yank him forward.

A single prick from the ring was all it took for him to transform… for Moramour’s grip to feel tighter on his wrist. He fought against the serum in his veins, but it held fast. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to clear it from his system. For all he knew it could likely last the five days Moralove had threatened.

Moramour’s lips brushed his ear, his voice dropping to a low, threatening whisper. “Does Sanguine or the words ‘Beware Dragonborn’ ring any bells?”

Any hesitation Jyggalag had, blew away the moment Moralove stopped talking. _Moramour knew… everything._

“Leave me alone!” He managed to pull out of Hermaeus Mora’s hold.

“You will answer to me, Jyggalag!”

* * *

“Mora!!!” shouted Rowi, rising to her feet to interfere.

Jyggalag didn’t stop running, a trailed, “Moramour, you’re stupid!” the only thing that remained after a few seconds.

“Jygg…” Jyggalag had told her he was far more emotional in his female state, and with Mora accusing him… “Mora! How could you? He’s already been beating himself up for everything… and you just-”

“Stay out of it, Rowan!!”

_Did Mora just…?_

“What…?!” Rowan asked, giving Mora one chance to explain himself.

“This is between Princes-”

“Oh, fuck you Mora!”

* * *

It was peculiar to see his master appearing at his door so late at night. Even more peculiar for his master to be a woman. _Something must have gone horribly wrong..._

“Master?”

His master fretted for a few seconds, Lord Jyggalag’s delicate fingers clenched over chest, before finally speaking. “May I stay the night here?”

“Of course!” Dyus was quick to answer. “Stay as long as you like. And, if you permit me...” He hugged his master tight, having seen Master Felborne do similar to try and cheer Lord Jyggalag up. It appeared to work, however temporary its effects.

“Dyus?”

His attention focused back. “How about some shaved ice? I brought along some of your favorite sweetened syrups.”

His master wasn’t about to say no to dessert, and nodded discreetly - still too upset for many words.

* * *

From his vantage point Rowan could see Jyggalag step out onto the covered patio, bowl of something - likely sweet - in hand.

With spoon in mouth, Jyggalag plopped down and swung her legs out over the edge of the patio. He heard her mumble, “Moramour, you idiot…” as she stared out over the smooth wave, the white surf crashing gently along the shore.

Beside him, Devilag offered a contented, “Suffer…” the clone enjoying every moment of Jyggalag’s misery.

Rowan gave a swift smack on the head. “Enough!”

The clone whimpered, but Rowan only glared with his blue eye - Mora’s eye covered with some reedlike strands and a large leaf while they were visiting Jyggalag.

Rowan slunk closer, leaving Devilag to skulk in the treeline.

Soft sand shifting beneath his toes was enough to get the high strung Daedra turning on him. Jyggalag raised the thick hollow reed beside her and brought it down on Rowan’s head with a thwack. “Fuck off Perverted Octopus!” Twack. “You think you can creep up on me?!” Twack. Twack. Twack. “Just you try, you Memory Leech!”

Rowan brought his arms up to brace against the blows, but it didn’t stop the green wood-like material from leaving stinging red welts on his skin. “Ouch…” Twack. “Jygg!” Twack. “Jygg! It’s me!”

The hard blows stopped.

“Rowan?” she panted, somehow baffled that he would be the one to approach her first.

“Surprise…” he said weakly, just a little dazed from being hit in such rapid succession. Didn’t seem like Jyggalag suffered the same weakness he did when transformed, at least, not to the same extent.

When he didn’t get up from where Jyggalag smacked him into submission, she let out an apprehensive, “Rowan...?”

He groaned and rubbed his head… his arms. They were already hurting, and would likely continue doing so for a while.

Jyggalag was horrified. “Rowan!” she cried, grabbing him roughly and crushing him against her breasts.

He turned red near-immediate, though Jyggalag didn’t seem at all aware of their positions.

“I’m so sorry!” wailed Jyggalag, her hold on him only tightening. “I’m sorry, Rowan!!”

Devilag chose that moment to finally ‘rescue’ him.

Rowan preferred that Devilag wouldn’t yank on the towel he had wrapped around his waist when he transformed back after his argument with Mora. “Hey!”

****

Dyus had been the one to come to his true rescue. The small man able to successfully wrangle both Jyggalag and Devilag into behaving.

Exhausted, and finished her evening snack, Jyggalag easily fell asleep when Dyus set out her bed.

Her eyes were still swollen from crying, but Jyggalag was finally starting to look a little more normal.

“Phew. I can head back now…” It had taken longer than he thought to calm Jyggalag down, and he only hoped the excuse he gave to Mora for his inevitable noticed absence would still be valid.

With a wave, Dyus saw both Rowan and Devilag off.

****

The wind had picked up with the falling night, and Rowan had to push back a few loose strands that had fallen into his face. “It’s not fair that Jygg is the only one blamed,” he thought out loud, unsure if the copy would even give him a response on anything related to his original.

“You’re too nice,” Devilag said, startling Rowan with how normal his words sounded.

They continued in silence as they walked back along the beach, the steady waves washing out the evidence of their visit. Mora stood outside, waiting impatiently for their return.

Rowan leaned subtly into Devilag for emotional support. “Don’t forget what we agreed on,” he whispered to the clone.

“SuRE.” Devilag nuzzled into his side. “YoU OwE me For thiS…”

 _If this worked…_ Rowan silently promised.

“Your walk certainly took long enough,” Mora growled. “And, with your eye covered.”

Rowan suddenly had doubts on whether their plan would even work, especially when Mora was already suspecting what he had done.

Sliding an arm over Rowan’s shoulder, Devilag started chuckling. “Hu, hU… qUiTE NoRMaL. LoVE is Too shY to ShaRe the ViEW of my SWorD.”

Rowan didn’t need any help to have a flush touching his face to make their lie believable. “I followed your advice Mora… R-Rewards for good behavior.”

“Oh! I see! That’s nice.” A blush touched Mora’s own face as their lie took root in his mind. It didn’t help that Devilag’s hands started trailing to more inappropriate places.

“Dev!” Rowan shouted, getting further flustered. He slapped away the groping fingers, having about enough for the day. “I’m tired! Good night!”

Not bothering with the echoed whine of, “Awww… Already?” from both Devilag and Mora, Rowan headed inside.

* * *

Jyggalag’s steps were slow. Purposeful. He was taking the time to mentally brace himself for the confrontation with his Amour-a. It had taken a while to compose himself, but he felt ready… less fragile.

“Hermaeus Mora!”

He was surprised to discover no immediate response. Jyggalag called again, this time thumping his heavy bamboo cane against the ground.

Still nothing.

“Not here?” Jyggalag asked, more to himself than anyone who might be listening. But, it wouldn’t matter. He had imbued the island with far too much of his power to be set back far. “You can’t hide from me! Not on my own island!”

It took only a bit of concentration to connect to the magic thrumming through the earth and sand. It welcomed him back, eager to appease. He redirected the exuberant island towards a task. _Find Moralove,_ he instructed.

The island shone as its crystals resonated, fine glowing lines connecting each one as they communicated with one another.

An image formed in his mind.

 _There!_ He knew where his Amour-a was.

****

He found Moralove and… _it_ along a grotto. The rocks worn down by the frequent waves that crashed along them. It was currently low tide, the white sand shining beneath his feet. Come late afternoon, everything would be submerged again.

_What are they do-?_

Jyggalag risked peeking around a rocky pillar and regretted it almost immediately. The sinful moans were just barely louder than the echoed slap of skin on skin.

Moralove, wearing her female form, was bent forward on her hands and knees. Each thrust from Jyggalag’s abomination was met with a backward press of her hips, a tendril coaxing the thing faster.

_Moramour!!!!_

Conflicted between anger, jealousy, and embarrassment, Jyggalag remained transfixed. Fortunately, neither had caught sight of him yet.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Jyggalag, Mora was watching. She knew it was only a matter of time before Jyggalag would come back, and when she had felt the thrum of magic reverberate across the island, Mora knew.

“Yes! Yes!” she cried out for all to hear. Mora rocked back into Devilag, his length burrowing deep into her core.

Mora watched as poor Jyggalag grew flush, his own need working against his better judgment.

_All it would take now was a little… push._

“Jyggy doesn’t know what he’s missing. How good it feels to be fucked as a woman…”

Jyggalag trembled deliciously, his finger sliding towards his throbbing heat. His lustful smell wafting towards them on the ocean breeze. Only Devilag didn’t yet notice their voyeur - likely due to his shared scent.

Mora could see Jyggalag’s hesitation and encouraged her own aroused scent towards him, hoping to entice him to touch, if he wouldn’t join in.

“Ahh! Dev!”

Then came Rowan… Rowan who had been sleeping so soundly up until now, and should have remained so until at least the first touches of noon.

* * *

“Jygg?”

_Rowan?!_

Jyggalag’s fingers halted, their tips just a breath away from slipping over his sensitive lips in some sad attempt to quell the burning heat between his legs.

“What are you doing here?” Rowan asked, his gaze slipping down. As expected, red had crept into the Nord’s cheeks and was already staining his ears.

Jyggalag suddenly remembered Moramour’s shared eye, and slapped his hands over Rowan’s face to block his vision. “Close your eyes!” he hissed quietly, hoping Moralove hadn’t noticed. A quick glance to the pair, suggested that she hadn’t. “Come.”

He grabbed at Rowan’s hand, his fingers closing around his large forefinger and middle finger, and tugged the lumbering Nord with him.

* * *

Rowan obeyed Jyggalag’s unspoken plea and kept his eyes closed. He stumbled a few times, one time so bad he had to stop, but Jyggalag proved to be patient with him as she led him to… wherever…

“Sorry, Rowan…”

“For what?” he asked, eyes still closed. He felt leaves brushing his face, and wiped at them with his free hand.

Somewhere ahead of him, he heard Jyggalag sigh. “It looked too much like a setup.”

“I see…” Rowan had noticed that Mora had slipped away with Devilag sometime early. He wouldn’t put it past the Daedric Prince to be setting some elaborate plan into motion.

_One that would likely leave Jyggalag humiliated._

He suddenly bumped into her back.

Jyggalag had stopped walking. “Damn it. I feel… hot.”

“Uhhh…” Rowan wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but it seemed he didn’t have to.

Jyggalag was already pulling him along again… this time a little faster.

****

“You can open your eyes now.”

Her hand slipped from his as he slowly opened one eye, then the other when Jyggalag’s body language said it was alright.

The first thing that caught his interest was the towering crystal they were at the base of, several smaller offshoots clamoring around its base like flocking chicks. Even the ground had been made of the stuff. Hard and indestructible, the clear crystal spanned below them for miles, many more crystalline shapes forming intricate patterns within.

“Wow…” Rowan felt at a loss for words, and the one he managed, immeasurably inadequate.

His eyes drifted back to Jyggalag and he found himself spying a similar marvel.

She was pulling her robe off her delicate shoulders, the fabric rustling softly as if afraid to break the silence that had fallen between them.

His face flushed a vibrant hue, and he was unsure of what to do next. His body froze. Even his mind was not spared.

Jyggalag turned coyly, her expression flustered… embarrassed.

“Rowan…” she started, unsure of how exactly to proceed. She let her robe fall about her feet and stepped toward him.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Jygg…”

The Daedra pressed against him, her body molding to his. She lifted a hand to run over his shoulder.

Rowan looked away sharply, his eyes crushing closed. “Mora will see… He’s already so angry… I…”

“Let him… He can’t come here. Nor send his spies. Not here. Not at the heart of my sanctuary, where no one can enter.”

“But, I could…”

* * *

Jyggalag nestled into Rowan’s chest. Into his scent and warmth. “Yes, because you… you…” Jyggalag bit his lip, his hand coming to press over Rowan’s heart. It beat strong and loud, and if he focused, he could pick up the faint fibrous remnants of his Oblivion bond stringing Rowan’s soul together. _Because you bear a part of me. A very important part._

Instead, Jyggalag hugged him. “I’m afraid Mora will take away what I promised you.”

“Huh?”

“You… You know… My first… B-Behind…” He can feel his own blush begin to stain his ears blue.

Especially when Rowan repeats his blundering, his eyes opening wide. “Huh!!? When?!”

“It’s not important,” he assures Rowan, pressing his ear tight to listen closely to the organ pumping excitedly beneath Rowan’s skin. “Maybe we sh-”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Jyggalag felt himself freeze, and he glared up at the idiot who had just declined him.

“What?! Do you have any idea what you just refused? Something with such immense value to a Daedra… and you just…”

“Not really…” In some pathetic attempt to soothe his wounded price, Rowan stroked a sword-calloused hand through Jyggalag’s hair. “And, I’m not a Daedra.”

“So you say…” For some reason, Jyggalag frowned with the reminder, a line drawn between them that Rowan might never cross. He turned away, obviously rejected for now. “Dummy…”

Gentle hands draped his yukata back over his thin shoulders. “It might be better if we let Mora cool down first… Besides, I doubt you’re ready to try something like… that.” Rowan’s touch lingered on Jyggalag’s shoulders for a few more seconds, before they swung back awkwardly to his sides.

A small smile touched Jyggalag’s lips and he raised fist to hide it - despite his back still facing he Nord. “Pff. You’re too nice.” He shoved his arms through sleeves of his yukata and cinched the cloth belt tight.

Jyggalag almost missed Rowan’s fleeting look of bewilderment, especially when an unwanted voice broke in.

“Hey!”

His ears flattened, and Jyggalag internally groaned. He had forgotten that the island’s heart wouldn’t be able to differentiate between himself and the abomination.

_Fine… They had finished here anyway…_

He gave Rowan a firm push, accidently knocking the surprised Nord off balance. “Whoa!” Rowan exclaimed as he had to take a few steps forward to regain his balance.

“Just go see Moramour. That’s the only reason it would be here.”

“But…” The Nord glanced over his shoulder, looking maybe a tad concerned.

It made Jyggalag’s heart jump a little. “Don’t worry. This spat is nothing on a Daedric Prince’s anger scale. Moralove will calm down eventually…”

His creation glared, and finding Rowan ignoring its insistent tugging, eventually just threw the bulky Nord over its shoulder and marched off.

“... Maybe…” Jyggalag added as an afterthought as he watched it walk away with Rowan.

Just a tiny bit lonely now that Rowan was gone, Jyggalag pulled up his knees and sat at the base of the island’s heart. It pulsed with warmth to his proximity, but beyond its protection, it could do nothing for him.

****

Time passed, dragging a storm with it. The dark clouds threatened the sky and chased the sun away.

“Better head back.” The island wouldn’t know enough to keep the rain away. The water was far too welcome to the greenery that grew on it.

The first drops smacked against his skin and clothes, slowly picking up to a steady downpour. Water ran in small rivers along the stone, carrying with it twigs and mud it found in its journey. The storm would likely be a bad one. _He needed to hurry._

A clap a thunder drew his eyes to the sky, but he must have missed the bolt of lightning. He turned back to the path, to realize it had been no thunder he had heard.

His eyes went wide.

* * *

“Mora…” Rowan was bored. Not to mention a little tied up. “I won’t escape.”

Mora’s tendrils weren’t convinced. They continued to hold him close to their master who was sitting nearby. “You never know.”

He sighed, knowing it was useless to try and argue with the asinine Prince.

Even Devilag wouldn’t bother to interfere, Mora decidedly occupying his interest with a cookbook and a sly promise.

A tentative knock came at the front door.

“Excuse me…” It was Dyus, soaking from the heavy downpour outside. He was quickly ushered in from the rain, regardless of how badly he was dripping against the hardwood. Mora offered him a towel - Rowan still tangled - but, Dyus was too distressed to do more than wring it between his hands. “Did Master come back here? I haven’t heard anything. I’m worried with the storm.”

Rowan and Mora looked at each other, momentary worry touching each of their faces.

Mora looked away first, his nose held high, eyes shut with forced disregard.

He huffed as if needing to further emphasize his disinterest about Jyggalag’s disappearance. “I’m not worried. Jygg can manage… alone… and sad… and sweetly virgin…”

Mora wasn’t fooling anyone. Especially, when his brows furrowed and a cold sweat started along his brows.

****

It didn’t take much to convince the stubborn Prince to let him go after that. Mora’s floating eyes accompanying his search as Dyus started circling along the other way. Devilag trailed after Rowan, annoyed that they had to go out in the rain but strangely not saying much else. Even Mora himself eventually plodded out of shelter and started his slow crawl towards the dense forest.

“Jygg!” Rowan shouted, hoping his voice could be heard over the rain and crashing thunder.

In the distance, his call was echoed similarly. Both Mora and Dyus yelling for the missing Daedra. Only Devilag remained silent, his mood souring with every drop of water that plastered his long white hair to his face and bare back. The clone looked like a drowned cat, and Rowan imagined he must have looked similar.

A fresh mound of piled rocks, mud, logs, drew his attention. “A landslide?” He approached, hoping the flash of grey he had seen, had been imagined.

It wasn’t, and the abrupt flash of pain behind his eye echoed Mora’s own anguish at the sight of a silver-streaked arm poking out from the pile of rubble. It felt like Mora himself was trying to rip from his eye socket, and Rowan had to force his eyes away from Jyggalag’s limb.

Instead, a portal tore open behind him, tendrils aiding him in lifting the debris away.

His muscles strained, the rain just barely keeping him cool as his own sweat mingled with the lukewarm water. “Hold on!” he shouted, through tight teeth. “Hold on!”

But, holding on seemed like all Jyggalag could do. Her face was bloody and bruised. One of her usually dark and conniving eyes, shut with a mass of blue and purple swelling around it. She lay limp and unseeing. Her eyelids flickered barely open, then closed again. Shivers from the rain, from the cold, racked her body. And, despite the legends of Daedra’s immortality, Rowan doubted if anyone could recover from what he saw.

Any trace of anger Mora had, had dissipated. A deep-rooted concern had taken its place. “Jygg’s regeneration is slow…” admitted Mora when the last of the rocks have been pulled away. He was in his amorphous form, allowing for easier movement on the unstable terrain.

“Careful… careful.” Rowan wasn’t sure the voice had been his or Mora’s as tendrils snaked out to delicately cradle Jyggalag’s broken body.

Again, Devilag remained silent.

****

Jyggalag had been tucked into bed as soon as they got back. Her injuries cleaned and wrapped as they weren’t healing fast enough for anyone’s liking.

“What if Jyggalag dies? With his link severed…” Mora drifted from his spot along the ceiling and snuggled into Jyggalag’s side. Several tendrils circled the Daedra’s form as if the simple act of holding her could fight back the reaper.

Rowan let Mora’s words sink in, his hands curling into fists on his knees. “You mean…” He felt sick. _If he had stayed… then Jyggalag might not be like this now…_

“ _We’LL_ diSApPear.” Devilag had no hesitation in filling out what was on everyone’s mind. The copy tsked and crossed his arms over his chest.

It was never brought up until now, but his choice of words made it clear he needed Jyggalag - despite his blatant hatred of the other.

With their continued silence, Devilag pushed to his feet. “CaN SoMEonE oPeN a PORtaL tO the SHiveriNg IsLes?”

“Yes,” answered Mora hesitantly. “Why?”

“I ReFUsE to DiE aNd Let ROwAn MoURn Me, aLL becaUsE of THat sTupiD bAsTaRD!”

Mora cast a sideways glance to Jyggalag still lying unconscious in his hold. “But if I allow Sheo here, Jygg will gut me!”

“But…” It was Rowan’s turn to add something. “If we don’t do something…”

Jyggalag continued to shiver, despite the humid warmth of her surrounds and the blanket wrapped tightly around her slim frame. Rowan didn’t know much about Daedra biology, but Jyggalag didn’t seem to be improving. If anything, she had gotten paler and her bruising darker.

Mora’s eye drew tight. “No choice then.”

* * *

“Owwww…” Jyggalag whined quietly as he slowly opened his eyes. Everything seemed to hurt, and the parts that didn’t were stiff. But much to his relief, when he patted himself down inspecting the extent of his bodily grievances, he was back to his male self.

_How long had he been unconscious?_

Throwing off the heavy blanket, he slowly rose to his feet and staggered towards the sliding door. “Dyus?” He didn’t remember making it back, and he definitely didn’t remember making it back to his realm.

_Where was everyone?_

An ear twitched with his growing agitation.

_Had he been left out? Had Moramour gone back already?_

Jyggalag wanted answers, but knew he wouldn’t be getting any staying cooped up in his realm. Running for his realm’s gateway, he flung open the door, it rattling loudly in its frame.

When he felt the caress of Oblivion’s magic, he stopped. When he recognized the landscape of the Shivering Isles he swore, the ancient curse leaving his mouth before he had the sense to stop it.

Fortunately, the squirrel and large mushrooms wouldn’t be able to judge him. The annoyance perched atop one of the mushrooms however…

“Hello, Foxy!” came the idiot’s overly familiar greeting. Sheogorath grinned down at him, his sense of style wildly distasteful and overtly garish as per usual.

But, the idiot’s presence was hardly the reason for Jyggalag’s raised hackles and bared fangs. “What did you do to my realm?! Who even gave you permission to-”

“i DiD,” interrupted the abomination. “DyiNG bEcaUSe of YoUr PriDE, hArdLy sEeMed wORTh iT.”

Jyggalag growled. That explained how Sheogorath could join their two realms. How Sheogorath got the necessary permissions required to even attempt such a feat.

 _You trash!!!_ he thought, the growl furthering up his throat until it was rumbling along his teeth.

Sheogorath didn’t seem to notice - as Jyggalag could have expected of the fop. “You should’a told me you were a shutout! Would’a made you my neighbor then and there. Don’t want my ol’ noggin pal going perma-poof on me! All the disemboweling parties you’d be missing out on.” The idiot seemed far too pleased about their new… arrangement.

_If only you’d disembowel yourself._

A poof of fluttering butterflies, and Sheogorath disappeared, only to reappear inches from Jyggalag’s nose. “Plus, th’ place misses us both,” the imbecile added. “Would be nice being one again from time to time, Foxy. Especially when your legs bear that sweet butterfly trap.” His breath was a whisper against Jyggalag’s lips.

He was saved by a sudden yank backward, tendrils circling over his shoulders and around his neck. “Jyggy!”

“Moramour?!” Jyggalag asked, somewhat shocked by his Amour-a’s appearance.

Moralove tugged him in tight. “I was so worried.” The worry was a nice change, and Jyggalag turned to return the embrace.

“Now you got a box to go if you need to poof!” Sheogorath joined the hug, much to Jyggalag’s chagrin.

He grimaced and tried to pull away, but between Moralove’s hold, and the idiot’s persistent cling, he was trapped.

Following the commotion, a mop of dark-brown hair came to greet him.

_Rowan…_

“You look ridiculous.” Jyggalag felt obligated to mention as he took in Rowan’s particular dress. The Nord was wearing a tight-fitting blazer, the collar long and curling around his neck like pointed flower petals.

“I know, right?” Rowan’s blush returned. He didn’t need Jyggalag to remind him about what he was wearing, but Jyggalag was glad to have brought it up. The Nord’s humiliation was well worth it, but he hesitated on doing anything further with Moramour nearby.

It seemed like he didn’t have to worry, however. “It’s okay. I’m not angry anymore. Go Jyggy, you can embarrass him.”

“Really?”

He was released by both Princes and ran the short distance to Rowan.

The Nord hugged him tightly, his tense shoulders relaxing with the contact. “Jygg! I’m glad you’re okay.”

He took the opportunity to whisper into Rowan’s close ear. “Seriously, how did this happen?”

“A landslide,” Rowan answered. “You were hurt. Bad.”

“Damn…”

* * *

“Yeah.” That was when Rowan noticed something. Something extra hanging off of Jyggalag’s backside, draping down below the hem of his robe. “Umm… Jygg?”

“Hm?”

“There is…” He looked at it again, the extra limb twitching slightly beneath the white fabric as Jyggalag waited impatiently. “There is a tail popping from your arse.”

The Daedra’s brows furrowed, then he hesitantly looked back. The white-furred tail wiggled with the sudden attention it received. “What?!” exclaimed Jyggalag, not at all pleased with the black-tipped appendage. “Seriously!?” He growled, his scathing glare levied at Sheogorath. “Enough of your accessories!”

He gave the bushy tail a hard yank; a shriek pulled from his lips at the same time. There was nothing dignified about how the shock had him sprawled temporarily against the ground - enough that two pointed tufts poked out of his head where his ears had been.

Jyggalag recovered quickly, his tail and fox-like ears standing to full alert. “It’s real?!” he exclaimed pushing himself upright. “I have… I…”

“Just you wait for the eight others to pop out,” snickered Sheogorath with a giggle. The mad Daedra hid his smile, but with the way he was swaying drunkenly side-to-side, it was clear he was enjoying himself.

Jyggalag’s ears pressed back on his head - the white fur blending with his hair. “Death would have been preferable…” he bemoaned into the ground.

Mora took the brief distraction to lean in and whisper to Rowan, “It’s probably best to not tell him about the ears… yet, anyway.”

Rowan wasn’t sure if Jyggalag already knew about his replacement ears, but he nodded his silent agreement regardless.

“Jyggy…” Mora called as he sashayed closer to give the distraught Daedra a kiss.

The Daedra’s ears perked, and Rowan severely doubted that Jyggalag didn’t at least subconsciously realize the difference.

“It’s only a side-effect. With time you’ll get them under control… It’ll be like back then… When I couldn’t use my tendrils how I wanted to.” Mora gave another kiss, his eyes growing dreamy. Rowan took the opportunity to back away. Those were Mora’s ‘new knowledge’ eyes. Mora would be unrelenting until he was satisfied.

_Poor Jygg…_

“Besides… I really… really want to try you with these…” One of Mora’s hands had already slunk around Jyggalag’s waist. A tendril circling similarly around Jyggalag’s other side to cup his buttocks.

Jyggalag didn’t seem to mind the contact at all, his tail wagging contentedly from side to side.

_At least it was easier to tell Jygg’s moods now…_

Rowan managed to just barely hear Jyggalag’s whispered complaint of, “W-Wait not here…”

“So be it,” Mora agreed. He was far too eager for any disagreement at this point.

A portal yawned open beneath Jyggalag’s feet. His furred ears flicked forward from their new spots on the top of either side of his head as panic flicked across his stern features. He fell. An uttered, “Moralove!?” the only thing that seemed to remain of him as he sunk rapidly into the black and green vortex.

Mora was in full ‘knowledge-get mode’ now. He turned, the barest hints of drool creeping from the recess of his mouth. His face beginning to turn a dark shade of green with his rising blush. “Going to go make some good holiday memories. So, do take care of Rowan, Dev.”

With that, Mora jumped surprisingly spryly after Jyggalag, leaving Rowan a little stunned at, not only Mora’s suddenly display of speed, but of how he just put Devilag in charge.

_Sheogorath had been tampering earlier with the copy’s collar earlier…_

Rowan felt a cold sweat form along the back of his neck as his eyes drifted to the copy.

_Would it be too much to hope for, that Jyggalag’s restraints remained untouched?_

The manic grin on Devilag’s face said the copy was willing to risk the agonizing pain to find out.

Far less willing, Rowan ran.

Fortunately, Dyus had somehow predicted the turn of events, calling for him from the entrance to Jyggalag’s realm. “Master Felborne!”

“Dyus.” No questions asked. That was the direction he was heading with Devilag tight on his heels.

“RoWaN. DoN’T rUN.”

A quiet clack temporarily closed the gate, but the realm still responded to Devilag - evidently, much to Jyggalag’s irritation. It bought them seconds at most.

“Over here,” whispered Dyus as he opened what looked like a low closet. The near-albino revealed another portal in the process. “Hurry.” Without any further words, Dyus ushered Rowan through.

He pushed back the fur coat smacking into his face. A coat he recognized strongly. Groping further into the dark, Rowan hit the other side of the space he found himself in, to eventually push and let in a sliver of light. Pushing harder revealed… “My house!?” Jyggalag had made another portal to his home - obviously without his knowledge. “I’ll need a word with Jygg…”

“I’m afraid that will have to happen later, Master Felborne.” Dyus emerged quickly, pushing past him to pick up a pile of boards and hammer Rowan had been using to repair the roof.

Getting the idea, Rowan grabbed some nails and helped Dyus board up the wardrobe.

It was sealed in record time.

“We must keep moving.” Dyus insisted, knowing far more about Daedric tenacity than Rowan might ever.

Almost instinctively, Rowan snatched up the spare eyepatch on his bedside on his way out of his bedroom and tied it up around his head.

Dyus was two steps ahead of him and had tossed him a pair of slacks and a tunic that would be easier to move in rather than the elaborate outfit he had been dressed in by Sheogorath’s Chamberlin. With almost inhuman speed, Dyus had a full bag packed and was attempting to sling it over his thin shoulders.

There came a crash behind them, the clone peering menacingly through the gap in the boards he had created - Rowan wasn’t sure where the axe had come from.

“ROwaAaAN!”

Rowan wasn’t about to waste anymore time. He lifted the bag from Dyus and slung it over his own shoulders, half tempted to carry the small man as well.

In a flurry of hurried steps, they made it out of the front door and into the woods, a trailed howl chasing them.

“I’LL fiND yOu!!!”

“There’s a cave system not far from here. You can hide there,” offered Dyus as they ran. The distance between them and the pursuing Daedra not growing nearly as fast as either wanted.

“What about that sanctuary thing?”

“I am currently doubtful as to whether it could differentiate between my Master and his creation… There would be no place to hide if it fails to keep him out.”

_Cave it was then._

* * *

Jyggalag landed on his back, a few books flapping away like startled birds. It appeared Mora had lovingly dropped him in Apocrypha. The bed was new.

_Fuck. How long in advance had this situation been planned out?_

Moralove landed on top of him, conveniently ending up between Jyggalag’s legs.

“Moramour,” he said, hesitation making the words softer than he intended. “W-Wait… I honored about your new interest in me… but,” and it was a big ‘but’.

“Hush, Jyggy.” His Amour-a lavished his front with kisses, working towards his left pec and the flushed bud. He sucked. Gently.

“Rowan has been left alone with two of the most irresponsible Daedra in existence!”

A deft hand ignored his protest, instead occupied with undoing his belt. The fabric was gone with a quick yank. “Rowan is a grown man. I’m sure he can fend for himself.”

Further tendrils worked his yukata from his shoulders, to eventually just toss it aside. Those same tendrils soon turned on him, wrapping his limbs tight and helping him upright. Moralove was there to capture his lips, and silence any further noise; including the moan that was enticed from his lips as Moramour’s hand stroked the base of Jyggalag’s tail.

The way his hips canted higher with each stroke seemed to catch Moralove’s interest, and soon their positions changed.

“How high will you raise those hips for me, Jyggy?” he asked, still milking the base of his tail.

Jyggalag’s finger curled around the sheets, his toes doing the same. The newly acquired limb was just too sensitive, too responsive. _What was happening to him?_ “Shut up… you Octopus…” Any bite his words could have had vanished. It was simply the remnants of his pride lashing out.

“Ho, you dare…?”

A hand was suddenly tight on his balls. Rubbing and kneading. A tendril slithered away from its place playing with one of his nipples to encourage his eyes forward.

“There is something that I wish to share with you, Jyggy. Some rather precious memories I have been saving for an occasion like this.”

A mirror-like vortex formed in front of his face, an image slowly appearing in its depths. The noise coming from it struck first. The familiar heavy pants, and restrained moans. The moving picture formed fully, but Jyggalag didn’t need to see to know who the memory was of.

Rowan was sprawled along his back, legs raised and pulled down toward his head. His pants had been torn to shreds, leaving his weeping cock to hang free as a fat, slicked tendril eagerly pumped into his ass. He was bent nearly in half, his cream tunic rucked up high on his chest.

“Do you think you can suck yourself off, Rowan?”

The Nord strained to convince his eyes open, the red tip of his cock bobbing with every thrust driving deeper into his core. “I don’t think I’m that… mmmgrgh… flexible.”

“Shame,” came Moralove’s voice, vaguely disappointed. “I could try removing a few ribs… One of your vertebra, perhaps?”

“Leave my bones alone, Mora.”

“Fiiiine…”

The image faded, leaving the sight and stirred interest burned into Jyggalag’s mind.

Another formed in the others place, its contents bearing the same theme.

This time Rowan wearing even less - only a pair of ebony gauntlets and greaves. His limbs were entangled with Moramour’s tendrils, each helping to hold him upright and spread. His hands had been fixed above his head, and another tendril was licking between his legs, curling and pressing, not quite pushing into the Nord. Rowan was trembling, desperate. Sweat pearling down his tensing body. His face flushed with embarrassment as the pleading moan pushed passed his lips. “Mora…” His lips trembled as he shook his head. He swallowed hard. “Please…”

A chuckle. “And, here I thought I would never get you to beg me…”

“Shut… it…” Rowan sounded somewhat defeated.

Tendrils continued to coil up his sides, even as the image disappeared.

“By Anu…” said Jyggalag, still somehow fascinated by what he had been shown.

“Did you enjoy the little taste I gave you?” Moralove leaned over him to whisper in Jyggalag’s ear. His lips brushed the furred tip, and Moralove gave it a tiny nibble.

Admittedly, Jyggalag had, and it only fueled the rising heat on his face from earlier. The tiny bite on his delicate ear only made things worse, not to mention the tendril that had been fucking into his backside the whole time loosening him up. It had thoroughly slicked his insides, making its glide easy with wet sucking sounds with each in and out motion.

Satisfied, it retreated, and Moramour’s own blunt head lined up with his hole. “Come on. There are still plenty of memories to share.” Moralove’s tendril slipped back under his chin. “Watch, Looove.”

Another memory began to show as Mora pushed in. The slap was echoed in front of him, each moan mirrored. He opened his eyes, finding Rowan’s flushed face in a similar position, bent over on all fours.

There were additional touches along his cock, climbing up his belly. Jyggalag’s tail had curled over his back, and Moralove grabbed it before it slunk away.

“Ahn!”

Moralove continued to stroke his tail, the fur rubbing up between tight fingers.

“Hng!” Jyggalag continued fighting the sounds, but he was likely losing this battle - Moramour was being far too unfair.

****

Spent and exhausted Jyggalag fell forward. Even his idiotic tail had fallen limp.

“Awww…” Moramour picked him up.

He could no more than continue panting, his eyes straining to stay open. Their… fight took far more out of him than he thought it would.

“Do you think you can show me the ‘other you’?” whispered Moralove, just barely from his ear.

“Huh?” But, it was too late. He felt the brief sting of Sanguine’s ring, the subtle changes to his height, the more dramatic changes to his hormones and anatomy. “M...Moramour!” Jyggalag protested, his hands coming up to cover his breasts, his tail finally proving useful as it tucked between his legs to cover his lower entrance.

Moramour, while not doing anything immediately, he was sure to at least get as much as a view as he could, his disembodied eyes hovering around from every possible angle.

Trying to hide his disgustingly soft body from Moralove’s invasive sight, Jyggalag curled smaller.

“Jyggy…” cooed Moramour. “Jyggy… Don’t hide. I want to see.”

 _I’m sure,_ thought Jyggalag, but Moralove’s soft assurances were enough that Jyggalag risked a look, his eyes opening slowly. His Amour-a remained… stunned?

“Moramour?”

Suddenly, Moralove moved, rushing forward to pet and squish his soft ears between eager fingers. “By Padomay! You’re so cute and fluffy!”

 _Cute…_ Jyggalag felt his face heat rapidly. _No. No. I’m not cute._

Before he realized it there was a quiet poof.

Both Daedric Princes stopped and turned to spy the new appendage. The second tail waved, and curled in the air as if it were celebrating its freedom from wherever it had been hiding.

“Noooooo!” shrieked Jyggalag. _One had been enough!_

But, it didn’t stop at two tails. With his uttered cry of dismay, another tail appeared, then another one following that.

“Shhh… Shhhhh,” encouraged Moramour as he tugged Jyggalag into his embrace. “The more you stress out, the more they’ll appear. When you’re calm enough, you’ll be able to make them go away.”

Jyggalag sniffled, even as his Amour-a brushed away the newest bout of tears.

“Now, imagine a place you like…” Moramour nuzzled into the top of his head and kissed it. A gentle hand ran through his hair, bringing with it small assurances.

“My old library. I liked it there…” _But, now it was no more than ruins…_

“Hmmm…” hummed Moralove as he continued to cradle Jyggalag. “I liked visiting you there too. Shame I can’t bring it back for you.”

Moramour broke away first, his hand brushing away Jyggalag’s final tears.

“Let’s go back to your sanctuary. I’m sure everyone else is waiting for our return.”

Feeling somewhat more in control, he nodded.

“Alright then,” Moralove announced sharply. “Let’s go!”

Another portal snapped open, this one similarly beneath Jyggalag’s feet. _He was willing to walk through on his own this time!_

“Mora-!”

Jyggalag landed face first in the sand, the small white granules getting everywhere. His eyes, his mouth, his nose. With the stress, he felt another tail emerge.

The only gratuity he received was hearing Rowan’s dumb voice announcing a similar disbelief with Moramour’s undignified treatment.

* * *

Rowan fell through the black-green portal and landed on his ass. The Draugr he had been wrestling with, landing astride him. It snapped at him with yellowed, broken teeth, and he barely managed to hold it at bay with the abrupt change in scenery. It had been apparently too much to ask for the foul-smelling creature to not have been brought with him.

He punched the dried husk, his fist striking bone and partially decayed flesh. It moaned, its cracked nails flailing at him.

Near cracking his own skull open, an axe whizzed by his ear, hitting the Draugr dead-center between its shriveled glowing eyes. It fell back, now lifeless, only for a nearby crystal to activate some sort of defence mechanism and disintegrate the corpse into white powder. It made Rowan suddenly hesitant on where the rest of the white sand came from.

“Holy cr-” He was tackled around the middle as he was lifted in a swarm of chuckling madness.

_Devilag…!_

“Hey!”

The copy was hardly going to stop, choosing to ignore Rowan’s most recent protest and whisk him away from Dyus and Jyggalag who had been dropped similarly along the beach.

* * *

Jyggalag spit the sand from his mouth and rubbed hastily at his eyes. He had heard Rowan’s shout and the annoying laugh of his abominable creation.

“Rowan!” he shouted, despite knowing his shout would do nothing to help.

He continued rubbing the grit from his watery eyes. Every second he was blind, the more distance the thing could put between them. Jyggalag blinked rapidly. It was as good as he going to get under the circumstances. Fortunately, Dyus was able to point in the direction they had gone, albeit still looking a little green from the unexpected teleportation.

“Rowan!”

* * *

“Put me down!” Rowan demanded when his wriggling proved to be doing nothing against Devilag’s hold on him. His irritation was mounting with every step the copy took, despite not being able to directly say why.

“Sure,” surprisingly agreed the copy, slinging Rowan roughly from his shoulder and instead pinning him up against a tree.

Before Rowan could mount a defense, Devilag ducked in and kissed him. Rowan returned the favor by biting down, hard. He could taste the slight metallic tang against his tongue as Devilag recoiled, silver blood welling against his grey skin.

Devilag touched his fingers to his lip in disbelief and then them pulled them away to look. He mashed his fingertips together, before a snarl rose on his lip. “Rowan!” he started with a shout. “You want to make me mad!?”

Rowan’s own rumble rose in his throat, and he was nearly certain the Dragon wouldn’t need him to flip the medallion to emerge. “Bring it on, Copy.”

* * *

Mora eventually arrived where he had left everyone, expecting that they would remain where he put them. _He hadn’t taken that long to gather up the parcel he now held in his tendrils._

As it was, only Dyus remained where Mora had dropped him, looking mildly exhausted.

“Where is everyone?” he asked of the small man.

Dyus guestered weakly to the lush forest.

“Thank-you” Mora left Dyus to continue his lying against the sand.

_Hopefully, he wouldn’t burn in the strong sunlight._

* * *

Jyggalag wasn’t sure what to make of the sight he saw. Rowan half transformed, striped tail lashing out behind him irritably, as, between his bulky size and boots, he had trouble following up the tree.

“Twice!” Rowan growled, the tone fairly rare from the Nord. His muscles pulled his tunic taut, near threatening to tear its seams. “You pulled me away twice!”

The Nord tried again to find purchase of the narrow truck of the tall palm, his front talons digging grooves as he was forced back down by his own weight.

Jyggalag had never seen his creation so frightened as what the partially-turned-dragon had instilled, so he hesitated for a few… minutes before he thought it fair enough to intervene.

“Rowan?” Jyggalag called, his tails coming up reflexively to cover himself.

The Dragon’s mood changed almost instantly, his ears flicking forward with sudden attention. “Kiim!”

It was almost nice to see the Dragon’s interest hadn’t faded. He just hoped the Dragon’s obedience to his feminine form remained the same. “Come, Rowan. Be nice,” Jyggalag reminded Rowan as his heavier steps approached.

Rowan near tripped and decidedly kicked off his boots before continuing. “Yes, Love,” he said with a dumb, happy grin, tail flicking with excitement.

_L...Love??!_

Jyggalag remained silent, his tails forming a tight cocoon as she failed to keep the blush from his cheeks.

With prying fingers, Rowan peeled back a tail. “You… alright?”

_He looked sad, like he was hurt Jyggalag would hide from him._

Jyggalag’s tails unraveled from his body. “I’m alright, Rowan.” The Dragon gave one of his strange cooing purrs as he rubbed his cheek against Jyggalag’s reaching hand.

A cough from behind them, startled the pair and had all of Jyggalag’s tails bristling. It was Moralove, looking mildly left out.

****

“I can’t believe it!” muttered Jyggalag angrily, as she fastened the apron around her waist. “This… crap is the only thing I can wear like this!?”

Rowan leaned back from his cross-legged position on the floor. They had already scoured every wardrobe and closet on the island, but nothing had been designed with nine tails in mind. Jyggalag’s own robes, while could barely manage one, refused to fit nine - not to mention that the shoulders were far too wide anyway. Dyus’ apron was the only thing that could fit both Jyggalag’s smaller size and her tails.

Beside them, Devilag tugged at the chain Jyggalag had attached around his collar. He whimpered at its short length and the scalding glare Jyggalag sent his way.

“Be glad Mora was there!” Jyggalag reminded her copy with a warning.

It had been hard enough to convince Devilag down from the tree, even more so with Rowan resisting the effects of his earring in the process… _or so he’d been told._ Reminded of the little tidbit shared with him, Rowan guiltily scratched at his cheek.

Jyggalag had been more than a little tempted to let the copy suffer from exposure at the top of the tree, but Mora eventually just yanked him down with his tendrils. Rowan apparently snarling and tackling the copy hadn’t been expected, and both Jyggalag and Mora bore a few temporary scratches from trying to pull Rowan away.

Mora hovered beside Rowan, his tendrils tapping together like nervous fingers. He seemed to be blushing, though it was hard to tell exactly when his was in his amorphous state.

Apparently annoyed by their continued presence, Jyggalag snapped at both Rowan and Mora. “Stop staring,” she accused them.

Rowan looked away first, though Mora was definitely hesitant. He only looked away when Rowan nudged him, but came back with a present in his tendrils. “Don’t be… so mad… I have a… little something for you.”

“Huh? For me?” More than a little curious, Jyggalag accepted the gift. Within seconds, she had torn its paper wrappings. She stopped, her eyes shooting wide at the packages contents. “No way! It’s... “ Tears dotted the corner of her eyes, and Rowan was curious what could make Jyggalag act as such.

He didn’t have to wait long; Jyggalag was eager to pry the books from the box they had been housed in.

“Moramour… Where did you find these?” She hugged them tight to her chest, cradled them like a child.

“Well…” Mora pet Jyggalag as Jyggalag began purring happily, half nuzzling into the small stack of books.

“Thank-you.”

“I could only save this much… before Sheo destroyed everything. Sorry.”

It was certainly… adorable to watch.

“I could only save your pastry section.”

Jyggalag hugged the stack tighter, shame creeping into her shoulders as she whispered, “They’re my most precious.” She passed the books off to Dyus before hugging Mora tight. “I love you.”

More than a few of Mora’s tendrils wiggled as an apparent blush took hold of the floating Daedric Prince.

That was when Rowan noticed that Jyggalag was missing several of his extra limbs. Eight to be exact. “Hey Jygg! You only have one tail left.”

Eager dark eyes swept back. As if missing the others, the tail swished sadly, but Jyggalag was definitely happy.

Her emotions were catching, and Mora excitedly picked her up. “That’s great!”

“Moramour! Let me down!” Jyggalag objected, embarrassed not angry.

In Jyggalag’s distraction, a few tendrils slunk lower, but they were noticed quickly. “W- What are you doing?!”

Mora’s limbs retreated, his eyes sheepishly looking away - even the ones that were trying for a sneaky upward angle.

“Whoops! My mistake!”

“Liar!”

* * *

“Punishment time is over,” Jyggalag said with a sigh as he unceremoniously unclipped the chain from his creation’s throat.

It continued its solemn stare at the ground, still upset from Rowan’s apparent rejection.

He could almost say he felt sorry for the thing. Almost. “You can’t impose yourself on him. Let Rowan come by himself.” He closed the door on it, leaving it outside on the porch.

Jyggalag was glad he was down to one tail, but it was still a pain to try and sleep with. He adjusted his blanket again, trying to find some position that was comfortable. Eventually, he gave up trying to sleep on his back and switched to his side.

* * *

_Careful. Careful._

Mora’s tendrils moved slowly. Quietly. Jyggalag had just fallen asleep, and no one else was around to interrupt.

Her snores were soft - adorably so, and they made Mora that much eager.

_So close._

She flipped over with a murmur on her breath, and Mora’s tendrils paused in fear that Jyggalag was waking.

But, Mora was lucky. Her breathing evened out and she resumed her deep slumber. The tendril slithered closer to caress her cheek, and with her continued sleep, his touches grew bolder. More tendrils slinked forward to circle her breast, to wrap over, under. To play with its darker tip.

Her mumbled moans grew more consistent, but Mora was still wanting more. He wanted to see how far he could push.

A few more tendrils slipped lower, to smooth over her belly, to sneak between her legs. With careful teasing, he coaxed her legs wider. Her entrance grew hot as his rubbing and teasing continued.

* * *

Jyggalag woke with a jolt, his face heavy with blush and sweat soaking his sheets. His room was empty, and he might have considered it odd had Rowan not earlier said he’d sleep outside where it was colder.

_Moralove must have decided to join him…_

His dream had been vivid, and left his body twitching with residual want.

_Had he really wanted it to go further?_

“Fresh air…” He rose to his feet, and staggered for the door. It was dark outside, but there seemed to some figure waiting for him. Jyggalag squinted into the gloom.

_Rowan?_

A bit a magic and a weak candlelight formed in his open-faced palm. Just enough to see the shape in front of him.

His eyes went wide at the sight. It was Rowan, gagged with a tendril pumping down his throat. Another was coyly wrapped around his throat like a collar, while his arms had been bound above his head; his legs held wide. A singular thin tendril was tied around the base of his cock, keeping it swollen and inflamed. Rowan’s taut body spasmed as every muscle ached for release.

_Don’t tell me!?_

Jyggalag twisted, his eyes darting for Moramour, even as his heat throbbed with the scent of Rowan’s lust. He could feel himself grow wet, slick dripping from between his legs.

 _It was a trap… he had to resist…_ But, sight of Rowan so desperate, so defenseless. Jyggalag was rooted to the spot.

There was a chuckle to his right. “It is as good as it looks…”

“Mo-!” Jyggalag was pushed as he turned to source of the voice. He stumbled and landed on top of Rowan who let out a soft wuff as the tendril retracted from his mouth.

Jyggalag’s limbs were quickly tied up, his legs spread. A tendril covered his mouth. A bit of added teasing, and Rowan’s cock rose between his legs.

He could feel every added trust into Rowan’s ass, feel the way the Nord twitched and squirmed underneath her.

“No complaints?”

Even if Jyggalag had the use of his mouth, he wasn’t sure if he could complain. Not with the way Rowan was nosing into his bonding site. He moaned against the tendril covering his mouth - it not brave enough to risk gagging him as it had to Rowan earlier. _Smart…_ Jyggalag would have likely bitten it, regardless of his mood.

Moramour cupped a breast, to feel its weight and softness as he squeezed. Jyggalag’s body quaked, a light blue staining his cheeks and ears. “Still none?” Moramour checked, a tendril playing over Jyggalag’s other breast with feather-light touches. “Good… If I remember, you still owe Rowan your ‘backdoor’.”

Jyggalag’s legs were lifted, his knees bent closer to his chest as tendrils continued teasing the lips of his heat. He was lowered slowly, the blunt head of Rowan’s throbbing cock, pushing against Jyggalag’s ass as a lubricated tendril helped it find its entrance.

Rowan himself turned to nibbling; each nibble followed by an almost apologetic lick as the promise of release drew even closer.

 _Fuck!_ his dignity shouted, pushed back by his growing want. _At least his tails hadn’t popped out yet,_ another part of him reminded.

Eager tendrils parted his lower lips, to leave his wet entrance in full tantalizing view of Moralove’s eyes. “At least Jygg…” Moramour started, sinking a finger into his heat. “It feels good, yes?”

Jyggalag felt himself twitch, the feeling of Moramour’s finger stretching him, unfamiliar. This time though, he knew Moramour was holding himself back. Was wanting to be a gentle as he could. A second finger joined the first, to rub and stretch Jyggalag’s entrance wider.

 _Hot. So hot. My insides are…_ He hadn’t said no yet… nor was he sure he could.

“Just nod, Jygg. I won’t continue without your permission.”

With his lust running rampant through his system, his vision grew hazy. It would be so easy to give in, to fall to the feeling, but Mora needed an answer. Jyggalag swallowed hard. _Yes? No?_ He could feel his head begin to nod, to just mimic Moralove’s already bobbing head.

“Are you sure, Love?”

He was more aware of what he was agreeing to this time. With a further flushed face, Jyggalag nodded again.

“Thank you, Love. I promise you’ll be so horny that there will be no pain.”

Beneath him, almost forgotten, Rowan suddenly bucked, desperate, but Jyggalag was held just out of reach. He whined, and Jyggalag realized Moralove had flipped the Nord’s earring. Each breath had Rowan’s cock pressing deeper. Enticingly so. Like the promise of its full entry could finally quell the heat boiling him from the inside out.

“Kiim,” half whined, half cooed Rowan, scenting Jyggalag’s throat far more deeply. A second later, and enlarged fangs were biting into his throat, into his mark and igniting every nerve along the left side of his body. His dark eyes rolled back into his head, as his entire body quivered in ecstasy, the feeling furthered by Moramour’s tendrils messaging into his breasts; to play and manipulate the sensitive buds.

With a snap of strong hips, Rowan speared him, finally aided by Moralove’s tendrils instead of hindered.

Still muzzled, Jyggalag’s moans were muffled, but not enough to make his noises unrecognizable.

Moramour only chuckled, especially as Jyggalag’s spine bent back on itself. “Hoo, Rowan,” he mockingly scolded. “But then again; I don’t think I can wait much longer either.”

This time, it was Moralove’s turn to prod at Jyggalag’s heat with his cock. But, unlike Moramour’s tendrils, his member was hard, clumsy, and Moramour had to use his hand to make sure its blunt head lined up with Jyggalag’s thoroughly soaked hole. Moralove savored his entrance, taking it slow, making Jyggalag… wait.

His pace was torturous, Jyggalag’s body desperate, needy. He wanted to feel the full stretch around Moralove’s cock, to feel the smooth buds running along its underside rub against his sensitive insides. It wasn’t the same to Rowan’s draconic cock, and its fleshy barbs already catching along the rim of his ass with each stuttering, restrained thrust. Moramour’s length was far more forgiving, each nub soft adding a pleasant waving stretch as he continued his slow slide.

The tendril slipped from across his mouth, but at this point Jyggalag was wishing it remained - it had become that much harder to prevent the sounds escaping his lips.

“Sing for me,” Moramour purred, his tendrils continuing their massaging and groping.

“Ha…! Hng!” His loins throbbed with want, and within seconds he felt ears shift to furred tufts. It was humiliating to lose control over something like this… Over something so… delightfully delicious.  There was an initial pain, but that was soon blotted from his mind. “M… M… Moramour!”

“Mine. Mine,” Moralove repeated in time to every thrust. The every wonderful slide, in and out, in and out.

Rowan remained below him, a heated mattress for him to be spoiled upon. It was at this moment that the Dragon’s cock caught tight in his hole, further locking them together in one jumbled pile of writhing flesh. It didn’t even matter that the first of nine tails had emerged with a sinful shout of ecstasy. “Yes! Yes!” he cried out, just wanting Moramour to continue. He wanted more, needed more. He wanted to be full…

Suddenly, his body clenched. The sensation sent his mind spinning as it was primally satisfied. His insides throbbing and pulsing with his racing heartbeat.

Moramour was not sharing the same sentiments. “Huh…. Already?” he pathetically grovelled. “But, there was so much more I wanted to record…”

Jyggalag peeked through nearly shut eyelids down at his Amour-a. Moralove was torn between pushing his already fragile luck, or accepting his loss with some remaining dignity. He sighed, knowing he was going to have some regrets later, but with Rowan’s asinine cock still locked in his ass, they weren’t exactly done yet.

Relenting, he allowed himself to be maneuvered to his front, for Moramour to try his mouth. Rowan shifted awkwardly, Moralove’s tendrils both hindering and helping him rise to his feet to get Jyggalag in an even more compromising position.

* * *

Jyggalag didn’t remember passing out, but he could at least recall his senses being far too overwhelmed to continue after his Amour-a pushed for a third bout.

It however, did not explain the sight he woke up to - thankfully in his male form. Soft carnation petals dotted the corners of his room, and full flowers lay scattered across his lap and his blanket slid down his torso. Several wrapped packages sat at his feet, each one labeled along the lines of ‘It was Great!’, and ‘Love you’. He had no doubt about who they were from.

Jyggalag clapped his hands together tightly, and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he sighed out, “Stay calm. Zen thoughts…”

His mediation lasted all of a few seconds, before he rose to his feet and began pounding down the halls searching for his all-too-pushy-lover.

“Mora!” he snapped, throwing open the last set of doors.

There was only Rowan on the other side eating a bowl of shaved ice. He pulled the spoon out of his mouth, somehow surprised about the sudden visit. “Hello, Jygg! Mora… hum...” The Nord grew hesitant, and ran a finger under his nose, trying to ignore the thrashing tails behind Jyggalag. “He had an emergency in Apocrypha and left.”

All Jyggalag could feel was his rising ire, his ears pulling back on his head. “He fled…” Without any more attention to Rowan he stomped past, Moramour had been here and recently. His scent was still in the air - Jyggalag could also feel the slight remaining tremor of a rift in the air. _It shouldn’t take too much magic…_ “Let’s see if I can…” Willing just a glimmer of magic forward, Jyggalag snapped his fingers. The portal roared open with unwarranted ease and Jyggalag dashed through - not about to question it.

“Huh?! Jygg?” Rowan’s voice quickly faded from his furred ears.

* * *

“Mora…” came an eerie call. Mora, froze his eyes darting to the silver portal that had yawned open in his realm. “Moraaaaa…”

A face appeared. A fairly angry face. Jyggalag’s angry face.

Jumping back with a start, Mora automatically shifted back to his amorphous form. He quickly floated beyond the reach of grasping claws.

“Come down!” Jyggalag commanded, his tails twitching irritably. “Embrace me!”

There was only one type of embrace Mora could think of that Jyggalag would be interested in at the moment. His hands squeezing around Mora’s currently proverbial throat.

“You promised not to force me into sex!! And you dare flee after coercing me into it!!”

“But you looked sooo tantalizing and…”

* * *

“NoT a reaSon to…!” Not even catching a glimpse of Rowan’s blue eye floating amid the sea of yellow-green eyes could quench Jyggalag’s rising rage.

There came a polite cough. Jyggalag’s accusing finger froze, and he turned. Slowly.

Clavicus Vile was sitting nearby; a porcelain saucer balanced in his lap and a cup in his hand. As always the brat’s mutt was sitting beside Vile, a larger cup and saucer set between its front paws. Both were still looking remarkably stunned at Jyggalag’s appearance and sudden outburst.

He forced his tails to still, though a few wiggled nervously despite his best efforts.

“About my… problem…” Vile said, resuming the conversation he must have been having with Moralove before Jyggalag’s intrusion.

“Sorry,” apologize Mora from up high - still not ready to attempt being on solid ground with Jyggalag.

Jyggalag took his que to leave. “You better come back after, Mora,” he warned stiffly, departing through the still open portal before he ruined his image even further.

Once out on the other side, he let it snap shut behind him.

_Moramour could make his own damn portal!_

His only reprieve was Rowan, still sitting innocently on the floor eating, knowing nothing of how he had embarrassed himself.

“Jygg! So? How did it go?” Rowan asked tentatively, a hopeful smile creeping onto his stupid face.

Jyggalag’s facade crumbled, and the strength in his legs with it. He crumpled to the floor in a heap. “They’ll all soon know about my tails!”

“They?” Rowan set aside the emptied bowl and moved closer. Concern crept into his features.

“The other Daedric Princes,” bemoaned Jyggalag. “I have foolishly revealed myself to Clavicus Vile. Once concluded his business with Moramour, he is sure to spread gossip with the others.”

Rowan’s gaze fell onto the empty place where the portal had been. “Ah,” he said, the concern fading fast. “You worry too much.”

A hand drew Jyggalag up into a warm embrace - the ice the Nord had been eating earlier, doing little to cool him off.

* * *

“Well, that was interesting.” The impish Daedra chuckled, his hooped earrings set swaying as his reclined and took another sip of his tea. “I can’t believe he is the same Daedra as that old stuffy tin suit.” Almost as an afterthought, Clavicus Vile added, “Cute ears though… maybe I could have some fun…”

“You better... not,” Mora warned with a drooping sigh as he floating down from his earlier escape.

Vile tilted his head cutely to one side, but Mora wasn’t fooled by his innocent behavior. “Oh, come on. I bet he’ll enjoy it too.”

“I might not be able to do much about it if you decide to do something, but even I won’t know how Sheo will react. He’s oddly enamoured with Jyggy...”

Mention of the mad prince immediately quelled some of Vile’s enthusiasm.

“They even share realms now.”

“Jyggalag… shares a realm with Sheo…?” The other Prince was not as thrilled as Mora was with the news.

“Realms,” Mora corrected.

Clavicus Vile paled further.

****

“Master, I have finished stitching something for you…” Dyus offered up the fabric to the paper-screen door, Jyggalag was sitting behind. “I recall you requesting a little more space for your… extra parts.”

Jyggalag took the white yukata, grateful to finally have something to wear that could accommodate any surprise limbs - he was still finding it infuriatingly difficult to keep them under control. “Yes. Thank-you, Dyus.”

“At your service, my Lord.”

The fabric had been enchanted, particularly with some kind of alteration spell around the back. The markings of the spell blended cleverly within a black triangle.

_Seems Dyus had a hidden talent…_

He slid into the clothes, the yukata fitting exactly how he liked it, and cinched its belt tight. “Where is Rowan?” inquired Jyggalag after he had finished dressing.

“He’s looking for Squid.”

Jyggalag found the Nord outside, his body wet from the surf as Rowan had been wading through the low tide searching for Moramour’s pet. It appeared that he had, the creature wrapped around his head as it warbled solemnly at him.

“Aww! No I did not forget you,” Rowan assured Squid despite its whining chirps. His thick brow furrowed and rose as he continued listening. “Huh? An octopus was eaten? Was he your friend?”

The creature seemed to bawl even harder.

“She…? Ah. My condolences.”

It was odd to watch the seemingly one sided conversation. Even now Jyggalag could only translate snippets of the seemingly random series of chirps and whistles. How Rowan was able to do so with ease was beyond him.

“Rowan,” he interrupted when a lull in the conversation appeared. “It’s time to go home.”


	20. Running the Gauntlet [Explicit] *NEW*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan catches Jyggalag about to head out on an expedition. Jyggalag, not prepared for the tag-along, changes his goals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Male Dragonborn/Jyggalag, Female Dragonborn/Jyggalag, gender transformation, gender swapping, light bondage, tentacles

When Rowan came by to steal some of the pastries he saw Dyus putting out on the windowsill to cool, he found a stranger in Jyggalag’s home. He paused in the doorway slightly too long as he doubled checked that he had remembered to put his eyepatch on.

_He had._

“What do you want?” the Dunmer asked as he adjusted a leather gauntlet over his right forearm. The dark elf’s voice sounded familiar - startlingly so.

“Jyggalag?” Rowan’s jaw dropped slightly as his brain found the time to catch up. For one, the Daedra had solid black hair, and second, was sporting a close-kept beard that had been styled with a shaven swirl on each cheek.

“Who else could I be?” Jyggalag shot back haughtily.

Rowan’s lips flapped for an answer. He hadn’t exactly known Jyggalag for inviting anyone over… himself included. Rowan just sort of intruded when he got bored and didn’t feel up to adventuring.

Jyggalag just rolled his eyes at Rowan’s continued silence. “While you are here, I suppose I should ask you if you want to come with me?”

“For…?”

“There is a certain dwarven ruin that has caught my attention.”

“That doesn’t explain the-”

“Look?” Jyggalag finished for him, looking somewhat smug with himself in his own expressionless way. “Since our run-in with the Thalmor I figured it better to travel in disguise. A white-haired Dunmer is somewhat memorable around here.”

“But, that still doesn’t explain why you would want me to come…”

“You have an affinity for traveling, not to mention I require someone to carry my bag. Dyus is hardly suited for such extraneous activity, and you are well suited to playing the part of the mule.”

“Ass.”

“Whichever pack animal you prefer. Are you interested?”

****

They had taken temporary shelter from the storm in a nearby cave.

“We need to head back!” Rowan shouted over the rising wind. If they stayed for much longer, they’d be stuck.

“Huh? Why? That will set us back half a day…”

Rowan tugged his hood tighter around his ears. “Half a day is better than freezing to death.”

“Then we can share our warmth…”

“What…?! No!”

“Oh, yes… Come here.”

“No!”

“But, I am getting cold Rowan, and you must be freezing…” The Daedra was acting more than a little odd.

“Which is why we need to head back to town.” If Jyggalag wanted, he could stay and freeze. Rowan was leaving.

“Very well…” Jyggalag relented, following him as he headed back into the storm.

_Must have seen some sense, at least…_

****

_… Or maybe not._

“Sorry got only the one room… and it’s a small bed.”

“That is fine, excellent really… We have been wanting to get closer. More intimate,” Jyggalag said before Rowan could get a word in edgewise. “We are getting married soon.”

The innkeeper gave a knowing smile as she handed them the key. “Congratulations are in order then.”

The Daedra offered a smile… or Rowan thought that was supposed to be a smile. It looked more like a pained grimace. _Someone desperately needed practice._

“Thank you.”

They got more than a few odd looks and a whistle from the inn’s patrons as the climbed the creaky stairs to the second level, and their room.

Rowan could only duck his head, hoping that Jyggalag didn’t notice his cheeks turning red.

* * *

Jyggalag closed the door tightly behind him and made sure it was locked.

“Now we are alone.” He smirked, enjoying the discomfort their earlier ‘show’ brought the usually frustratingly, unflappable Nord. The door shut with a rattle, closing them off from the rambunctious crowd downstairs.

_Who knew Rowan could be so deliciously shy about such things? Well, besides Moralove…_

“I’m glad _someone_ enjoyed themselves…” Rowan grumbled, obviously debating on where to sleep in the small one-bed room they had rented. He dumped their shared backpack on the floor.

“Well, while you are deciding between the floor or that unstable chair in the corner… I am going to get changed.” Just to see what would happen, Jyggalag laid a quick kiss to the corner of the Nord’s lips as he dropped his armour jerkin to the floor.

Rowan’s mind ground to an abrupt halt as he stilled.

They separated, and a wider grin slid onto Jyggalag’s face.

* * *

It took a while for Rowan’s thoughts to catch up with what happened, but when they did...

_Oh no you don’t, you bastard._

He grabbed the front of the Daedra’s remaining guise and yanked him back. His lips smashed into Jyggalag’s as all his pent-up need came crashing forth in that moment of affection.

The Daedra returned the kiss and it deepened as they slammed into the wardrobe, scattering the various decorations that had laid upon it in the process.

A rowdy cheer rose from downstairs, but they ignored it. _Who knows what got that bunch excited..._

****

For once, Rowan managed to wake before his inhuman companion, though he chalked it up to getting far too hot to be comfortable.

He didn’t remember wrapping himself in the sheets until he resembled a cocoon, nor could he recall the habit before now.

Strong arms wrapped around his middle when he startled wiggling free, and soft snore sounded close to his ear.

 _‘No escape,’_ the action said.

 _Great,_ he thought sarcastically.

“Jygg…” he said, trying to wriggle again. “Wake up.”

“No…” came a sleepy response and another soft snore.

“Jygg!” Rowan rolled over and smacked Jyggalag with his forehead.

The Daedra glared, but got up wordlessly, stretching as he did so and letting out a huge yawn.

Rowan remained tangled in the sheets, and was now convinced he had been wrapped purposefully in his sleep. “Hey! Forgot something?!” He squirmed to try and accentuate his predicament.

Unfortunately, he forgot how close to the edge of the bed he was and fell, smacking his nose on the hardwood. The squirming stopped as Rowan sulked, embarrassed by what just happened. He heard footsteps as the Daedra approached.

“Need help?”

He remained silent for a beat, but eventually answered. “... Yes.”

There was a chuckle near his head as the Daedra squatted in from of him. “You are so helpless without me.”

“Just get me out of this…”

****

A rather gruff looking fellow came up and clamped a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Don’t think we heard the bed creak last night.”

“Ummm… excuse me?” asked Rowan a little bewildered. Jyggalag had gone off to finish paying for the damages they did to the room the night before, leaving him temporarily alone.

“You know…” The man gave an obvious wink, and Rowan may have turned a bright shade of red. The man didn’t give any indication he had seen… or maybe it had just been too dark to notice.

“Of course not. That bed would not have held up,” Jyggalag was all too happy to chime in from the counter.

_Stupid Daedric hearing..._

“We did it against a wall near the window,” continued to Daedra relentlessly.

“And, just about everywhere else,” someone else added.

There was more than a few sly smirks and an exchange of coins amid the inns’ sparse remaining patrons.

Rowan was severely regretting not agreeing to just roughing it in the wilds with the Daedra.

_Freezing to death would have been better..._

Jyggalag returned. “At least I did not tease that spot on your neck, or they would have heard more than is just breaking furniture,” he whispered lowly.

“How… considerate…” Rowan grumped as Jyggalag slid an arm over his shoulder.

_He wouldn’t say he hated the attention… but did it have to come with an audience?_

“Come on, Looove.” The Daedra stretched out the word just long enough to get the light dusting of red to touch Rowan’s ears. “The world is ours to explore.”

Rowan gave him a shove, earning himself more than a few laughs, and even a light chuckle from Jyggalag as they left the inn. “You’re just lucky that Mora didn’t see us…”

The Daedra hummed, then grinned - almost ominously. He had something in mind.

****

“Mind if I join you? The other tables are full.”

Rowan glanced up from his drink, idly wondering when Jyggalag would return from… whatever he was doing this time.

“Huh? Oh, sure go ahead. I should warn you, I have someone else coming to join me.”

“Oh, no worry. If your companion is as charming as you…”

Rowan nearly spat out his beer and ended up choking on it instead.

_Was he being hit on?_

“Whoa, sorry there,” apologized the Orc, her grin exaggerating her protruding lower tusks as she sat in the chair next to Rowan. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“S’ok,” Rowan coughed, wiping the white foam from his lips. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I find that hard to believe…”

Taking a smaller sip this time, he laughed weakly.

“Rowan…”

A hand came to rest tightly on his shoulder. He looked up to find Jyggalag standing behind him.

The Orc wasn’t dissuaded by the Daedra’s presence. “Ah, so you’re the one who left this handsome thing all on his lonesome…” She slipped Rowan an exaggerated wink which had Jyggalag bristling.

“Indeed…” Jyggalag ground out through tight teeth as he loudly dragged out a chair for himself.

“You better be careful then. Someone might just snap him up.”

“I would hope my _husband_ would be more cautious about potentially flirting with strangers.”

_Was that the story Jyggalag was going with again?_

Realization flitted across the Orc’s face. “Oh. I had thought…”

“Now you know. Rowan, it has been a long day. We should be going to bed.”

Rowan swirled the contents of his half-drunk ale. “Can I finish this first?”

The Daedra frowned, then rose quickly from his seat. “Fine. _I_ am going to bed…” Without another word, his form quickly marched around the corner.

“Wow. He always like that?” asked the Orc, leaning back on her chair and taking another swig of her ale.

Rowan glanced back over his shoulder to where Jyggalag had gone. “Unfortunately. I probably should check on him… Thanks for the company.”

“No problem...”

****

Rowan was grabbed the moment he rounded the corner.

“Worried?” asked Jyggalag with a smirk hidden by the shadows. He tugged Rowan in closer; his front pressing tight to Rowan’s back.

“Jealous?”

“Perhaps,” the Daedra admitted, slipping the eyepatch from Rowan’s face - its tie tangling around his fingers as he palmed it. “Keep your eye closed…”

“What are yo- Nrrrgh!” An aimed nibble to the sensitive spot on his neck had his words choked around the chasing spike of arousal. His face flushed, and his body quivered.

“Shhh,” Jyggalag teased as one hand went for the laces on his pants; the other sliding underneath the hem of his shirt to run over his chest. “You do not want anyone to hear, do you?”

Rowan tried to levi a hard glare at the Daedra behind him, but it evaporated quickly when his cock was freed and given a few skillful strokes.

“Fu-mmmmff.” Try as he might to resist, Rowan’s body was definitely reacting, his length hardening as his legs quaked - ready to give out at a moment’s notice. It was getting more difficult to keep the eye voluntarily closed.

“Not yet… This won’t get Moralove’s full attention…” His thumb wiped over Rowan’s lower head, spreading the sticky precum beading from its tip. “Just a little more… You are such a good boy, are you not?”

Any complaint he could have made would have just left his mouth in an incoherent jumble of syllables. He kept it closed, not that is mattered much. Muted moans managed to slip free from his lips anyway.

Self-satisfied, Jyggalag hummed into his shoulder, the minor vibrations enough to set off the bundle of nerves again.

His back arched against the Daedra, his rear pushing up against Jyggalag’s groin as his hands clamped tightly over his mouth.

“Do you want me?” whispered the Daedra with a smirk.

_The Bast-_

Jyggalag’s fangs sank deep into his neck, his nerves igniting with white-hot fire sparks. Rowan’s eyes snapped open then, his view mainly of the ceiling as his head tilted back.

“Come on… we need to give Moramour a better view than that…”

A finger guided his chin down, his sight catching on his swollen member, on the thick, creamy fluid weeping from his cock as Jyggalag continued to milk him. He could feel the Daedra grin as his legs finally gave out, his seed spilling across the dusty, wooden floor.

“There we go…” He felt the eyepatch slide back over his face, sealing his Daedric eye away.

“You… you know he’s gonna… gonna come after us for… that…” panted Rowan from the floor as he tucked himself away.

“Oh, I am hoping so…”

He furrowed his brow at the Daedra as he was helped to his feet. “If he catches us… I’m… I’m blaming you.”

The Daedra’s grin only widened. “Then we better not get caught.”

They didn’t stay another night, choosing to hit the road as day broke.

****

“Only you could find a hot springs in the middle of nowhere.”

Jyggalag hummed, seemingly ignoring him as he stripped down to nothing, and without hesitation, slid into the hot water. “When you have been around as long as I have, you start knowing what to look for.”

Rowan looked around again, still not quite sure how anything looked different. He grinned with his second thought. “Talos… I keep forgetting you’re fucking ancient. This… thing between us… It must feel like cradle robbing for you and Mora.”

The Daedra turned purposefully slow, his dark eyes meeting his uncovered blue eye. “You are well past _your_ prime by mortal standards.”

“Passed my prime?!”

“I believe this year puts you somewhere in your mid-hundreds, am I correct?”

Rowan’s silence answered for him. _It has been a long time._

“Besides, waiting for you by Daedra standards would take eons… And, I am somewhat impatient when it comes to getting what I want.”

“Don’t I know that…” Rowan glanced over the hot water, and then back to the surrounding snow.

“Get in, before I drag you in.”

“How are we gonna get out?” Rowan didn’t exactly like the idea of being wet in the surrounding cold.

“I will dry you after, if that is what you are worried about.”

He made a hesitant noise but figured Jyggalag wasn’t going to come out on his own, at least for a while. It wasn’t long after that Rowan gave up and was sliding in opposite.

“Why you sitting over there?”

“Ummm… you’ve always told me to sit on the other side?”

“Nonsense.” Jyggalag lightly slapped the water beside him.

Rowan wasn’t about to cater to the Daedra’s latest whim and remained where he was. “I’ve already settled in.”

He swore he saw Jyggalag pout, but before the expression could register, it disappeared. The Daedra stood up, the hot water steaming off his body in the cool air. “Do not be so difficult…”

Eyeing the approaching Daedra carefully, Rowan offered a reply. “Who’s being difficult?”

Jyggalag hummed with a small quirk of an upturned lip. “Come here, Rowan.”

“I’d rather not…”

As the Daedra continued his approach, his hands started making a beckoning motion, “Here kitty, kitty.”

“That’s not helping…” Rowan backed up as much as he could, the frigid air the only thing keeping him in the water. “In fact, that’s definitely making things worse.”

Jyggalag lowered his hands. “Fine then. We will do this the old-fashioned way…”

“Old fash-?” The Daedra suddenly cutting through the water towards him, proved to be an apt interruption. Rowan ran, or rather tried to, slowed greatly by his muscular size. The lithe being easily closed any distance he made.

“Got you!” the Daedra purred victorious, his lower member rubbing up between Rowan’s legs. “I think I deserve a reward.” Jyggalag didn’t wait for a response and pushed in deep before Rowan could say anything otherwise.

Rowan arched, spraying Jyggalag with a misting of warm water as his prostate was rammed - the Daedra’s aim having improved dramatically since this whole adventure started.

“Mmmgh…” The sound was ripped from him as Jyggalag thrust into him again; strong hands wrapping around his hips to hold him tight. He still refused to directly call out for the Daedra, and Rowan could tell it had become Jyggalag’s unspoken goal to encourage such.

A part of Rowan should have complained, should have argued against the rough handling, but at the same time it thrilled him. Made him feel wanted. Feel needed, as Jyggalag continued to pound into him, claws digging hard into his hips.

_Jygg… Jygg…_

He closed his eyes and rocked back into Jyggalag’s forward thrusting.

_Jyg-_

Rowan’s eyes snapped open. He had heard something. Listening closer, he heard it again, this time distinctly closer.

“Fuck me!” swore Rowan loudly.

“That is what I am doing,” came Jyggalag’s unhelpful response as the Daedra continued to thrust into him. “Or have you already forgotten?”

Rowan glowered over his shoulder. “I’m… mmmmgh... serious Jygg… I think I just heard something move.”

The Daedra slowed his pace, but didn’t cease entirely. “A hunter at most…” He bent to lay a few stray kisses to Rowan’s neck.

“I’m not so sure…” Rowan cupped a hand over his shoulder to halt Jyggalag’s progress. “What would a hunter be doing around here?”

“What are we doing here?”

“Good point, what are we doing here?” Rowan jokingly made a move for the water’s edge, but hands snaking around him halted any further distance.

Jyggalag huffed, but his attention flicked to the woods. He stared for a moment before saying, “Do not worry about it. Might be a hagraven… I have known of a few in this area. They will leave us alone for the most part.”

“Hagraven?!” Rowan tried to escape again - this time with actual urgency. Immortal or not, he’d rather not have to deal with the bird-crone monsters.

Having none of the same urgency, Jyggalag sank his fangs into Rowan’s shoulder. The jolt of pleasure placated him almost instantly, though his legs gave a residual spasm as he mentally fought the bonding site’s effects. He fell like a dead weight back into the Daedra.

“Tha- That’s dirty. You know what that feels like…”

“Yes… And, to think I am now the only one who can make you feel like that… at least here.”

It went unsaid that Mora had marked Rowan’s _other_ site; that Rowan was finally off the market as far as his Daedric lovers were concerned.

That didn’t stop Jyggalag’s wandering fingers from seeing if anything would happen by playing with the other site. _But, there was a surprising nothing._ His other spot was reserved for Mora alone it seemed.

“Jygg…”

The Daedra shushed him. “Let me enjoy this…” His nibbles turned to soft licks, each additional teasing touch further obliterating Rowan’s resistance.

“Jy…gg…” Rowan tried again, a small part of him still very anxious about the occasional rustle from their surroundings.

“If you are so insistent…” Jyggalag murmured. “Do not worry, I will keep you safe…”

Rowan could only attempt a nod, his muscles weak with his arousal. His eyes slid closed. He could feel as the Daedra turned his nose to scent his throat, and he could feel the pleased sigh on the Daedra’s lips.

_The feeling was addicting._

His arm reached around to press Jyggalag’s head closer. To press that sharp nose deeper. He could feel the Daedra’s grin, the barest press of those fangs. There was a kiss pressed to his throat before Jyggalag pulled away slightly.

“Sorry, Ladies. We are a bit too expensive to be watching for free…”

Rowan froze, then dared to open his eyes.

There were a pair of Hagraven’s watching them, the gnarled, old crones curious about their visitors… _or were Jygg and him, the visitors?_ Regardless, they were being watched and it renewed Rowan’s unease. Especially when Jyggalag seemed like he had no intention of doing anything about their audience.

“Jygg…” Rowan hissed as the Daedra’s hold on him tightened to prevent his inevitable attempt to escape. “What are you doing? They’re-”

“Do not be rude, Rowan.” Jyggalag reached around and gave Rowan a few quick strokes along his cock as if it would somehow calm him.

 _It did. Slightly._ Not that Rowan would openly admit he could be swayed so easily with a little coercion.

“And what per se, would be your price, Mortal?” one of them rasped through an ancient throat.

* * *

_Mortal? Well, he supposed it would look that way with how he was trying to restrict his presence. Didn’t want to make it too easy for Moramour afterall…_

Jyggalag supposed he could give a hint though. Just enough that the Hagravens wouldn’t cause too much of an issue. Just enough that his Amour-a wouldn’t immediately be on their tail.

He let the barest wisps of his aura touch them. The nearest one startled, but the second merely nodded an acknowledgment, especially when Jyggalag retracted his presence just as quickly and nuzzled back into Rowan’s throat.

“Very high indeed…”

Rowan remained blissfully ignorant of the exchange and adorably confused as they retreated. Just enough that the Nord could no longer sense them.

Jyggalag looked forward to what kind of gift would be left for them when they had finished.

****

“Dragon!” came a panicked cry from below their windowsill.

A bellowing roar and powerful wings buffeting the air was enough evidence for the local guard to begin ringing the warning bell.

Despite his fast heart rate, Rowan’s head fell into his chest as Jyggalag pulled free with an obscene sound. His fingers curled around the bed’s headboard a little tighter.

“Are you going to address that?” the Daedra asked with a sly smirk, knowing exactly how close Rowan had been to his climax. “By all means we can continue, but I fear that the inn might burn down while we are occupied.”

“I’m going…” Rowan was more than a little sure the Daedra wouldn’t have minded continuing, but…try as he might to convince himself otherwise, Rowan was still the Dragonborn.

He muttered a few angry words - mainly for the giant flying lizard who chose this particular town in the middle of nowhere to harass for the day - and pulled up his pants. He grabbed his sword lying by the door and hooked it back around his waist. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t you dare finish without me!”

Despite having complained earlier about the lack of a decent mattress, Jyggalag stretched lazily along the furs. “I shall wait here then, my loyal knight.”

Rowan just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and do not forget your eyepatch.”

 _Right…_ Rowan fetched it off the back of the chair where Jyggalag had tossed it and tied it hastily around his head.

****

The streets had mostly been deserted, save for those stupidly brave and a few guards who had been on duty the time the Dragon had decided to show up.

The ancient beast roared, and a volley of ice shot from its maw, near-instant freezing a chicken that hadn’t seen the sense to find cover.

_So much for the threat of the inn burning down…_

“Hey asshole!” Rowan shouted up at the Dragon. “I was in the middle of something, and now I’m in a bad mood. How about you piss off and come back later?! I’ll kill you then!”

The Dragon’s attention was drawn to him then; the others a little flabbergasted at Rowan’s apparent gall. “Who dares address me, Mulaagqah, as such?!”

“I fucking da-” Rowan rolled out of the way of the Thu’um; it freezing the ground where he had been moments earlier. “Rude!” he shouted, despite his own earlier disrespect.

The Dragon roared, shaking out its large head with the uttered challenge.

Rowan drew his sword, the dragonbone gleaming in the noonday sun.

_He warned the stupid lizard..._

****

No one stopped him as he stomped his path back up the rickety stairs, as apparently, no one had any qualms with him chasing off the dragon. Perhaps they were too afraid to argue with him.

Rowan was grateful. It would’ve been even harder to explain why it gave him its name should he seek its aid in the future, and why he was currently half-hard.

He swung the door open to their rented room, and found Jyggalag lounging against some additional pillows and furs he must have wrangled from another room while everyone else was panicking for their lives.

“I see you made yourself comfortable.”

“Hardly. It is now tolerable.” Jyggalag’s long legs drew up to splay himself provocatively - likely intentionally.

With adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Rowan’s cock decided it was an apt time to press further against the leg of his trousers.

Eyeing Rowan’s growing bulge, Jyggalag asked. “How did the dragon slaying go?”

“Didn’t slay it,” Rowan replied offhandedly as he was more distracted with stripping down his armor.

Jyggalag closed his legs. “I hardly think that is deserving of a reward…” His tone was teasing, his eyes mischievous. “It sounds like you are more in need of a punishment.”

“You wouldn’t…” His lower member pressed up harder against his underclothes.

“Oh, I very much would. To your knees.” The Daedra pointed to the floor to accentuate his command.

Thrumming with anticipation, Rowan sank to the floor before he could even register the thought. He internally frowned at his obedience, but the phantom limb thrashing out behind him made it clear why he had.

Jyggalag pulled himself from the soft nest and stepped predatorily towards him. Hiding nothing, he stopped just in front of Rowan’s nose.

“You obviously talked your way out of that fight to speed things up… How about we put that mouth of yours to a better use, hmmm?”

His eyes landed on Jyggalag’s length hanging half-hard near his face. The Daedra didn’t have to say anything else for Rowan to know what to do. “I’ve never actually done this before…” Rowan admitted, taking Jyggalag’s cock into his hand to coax it back to full hardness.

“Of course you hav-”

“Deep throating.” Rowan interrupted, blushing hard. “That licking and... other... stuff was the most I’ve done…”

“Well…” Jyggalag drew a finger beneath Rowan’s chin, coaxing his head towards his hardening member. His other hand went for the strings on the Nord’s eyepatch. “There is always time to try new things.”

****

Rowan’s eyepatch had been tossed aside, letting his Daedric eye get full view of Jyggalag’s hips thrusting in and out of his mouth, hands tangled in his hair on either side of his head.

“Stay focused on my blade,” Jyggalag encouraged. “And, keep your throat relaxed or you will gag because of that ridiculous mortal reflex…”

His mouth was a little busy to give some sort of reply. Instead, he partially bared his teeth, drawing a hiss and a tightening curl of fingers.

“Be kind, Rowan. Or, when it is my turn to return the favor, I might just bite yours off.”

After hearing that, Rowan sincerely doubted that he would ever let the Daedra’s mouth anywhere near his cock, but his teeth pulled back.

Jyggalag took thorough advantage, picking up his pace again.

“Yes! Oh, yes! How is it, dear _Wife_?”

Rowan was going to have a sore jaw afterword, and he hoped whatever Jyggalag had planned to make it up to him was worth it…

****

“Never should have come here!”

“Can’t you assholes think of something more original to say?” Rowan hollered, slicing the chest of a nearby bandit.

His opponent staggered back, hot red blood seeping through her fingers as she collapsed.

Jyggalag was occupied similarly, though he seemed to be purposefully taking his time.

Rowan made his way over. “Need any help?” he asked over the din of clashing blades and of screaming bandits.

“Waiting for you actually. I was getting bored, and I was hoping you would take over for me.”

“Bored?!”

“Precisely. There is no sport in this… These heathens are average at best.”

A fireball whizzed overhead. A mage had just joined the fray.

“You were saying?”

“Mediocre. A four out of ten.”

Rowan rolled his eyes.

****

Exhausted, Rowan flopped onto the bed, hardly caring this time that there was only the one in the room. He turned slightly and found Jyggalag eyeing the full-length mirror the room had been graced with.

“What?” Rowan asked.

“I think I found something we can have a little fun with…”

Rowan cast the mirror a glance. He didn’t exactly see anything special about it. “Can it wait…? I’m tired.”

“Tired? What happened to that unlimited stamina of yours?”

He ducked his head into the lush pillows. They were glorious and stuffed to bursting with soft goose down.

_Jyggalag really did splurge for this room…_

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you getting hit with that ‘Absorb Stamina’ destruction spell,” muttered Rowan into the pile of comfort.

“Nor was I foolish enough to stand in the way of such an attack.”

“Because you decided to sit on the sidelines halfway through…” Rowan groused, distinctly remembering the Daedra walking away out of sheer boredom.

The sound of a cork popping free drew Rowan’s blue eye back towards the Daedra.

Jyggalag was inspecting the rosy-colored contents of an elegant glass bottle. He answered the question on the Nord’s lips. “Strawberry scented oil. I was worried for a moment that someone uninvited had learned of our little… _escapade._ ” The Daedra slinked to the side of the bed, bottle still in hand. He set the bottle down with a tap on the bedside table. “I still owe you from our earlier session… Don’t I?”

“Not in the mood Jygg. I just wanna sleep.”

“But, _I_ definitely do not...” A finger trailed up the inside of Rowan’s thigh before retreating.

Rowan just grumbled.

Jyggalag hummed contemplatively. “Well, if that is truly how you feel… There still is something we can do.”

Peering inquisitively back to the Daedra, his blue eye cracked open no more than a sliver.

“Stay there. I need to fetch something from my pack.”

Rowan just murmured an automatic response. He could handle not moving for a while.

By the time he had almost fallen asleep, Jyggalag returned. The bed dipped with the Daedra’s added weight, bouncing slightly as he fiddled with leather roll on the bedside.

A few seconds later, Rowan felt something jab into the meat of his lower back. It numbed the area almost instantly before a slight soothing sensation took hold.

“What in Oblivion did you just stab me with?!”

“Stab you? Hardly. You barely felt anything.”

“I still know you stuck me with something, and the secrecy makes me nervous.”

“A needle…” answered the Daedra matter-of-factly with a slight huff. “One painstakingly crafted and enchanted by me in years long gone. They can be used for a wide range of applications.”

“They…? How many more do you plan on poking me with?”

“Enough that, that mouth of yours stops complaining.”

“You keeping me up isn’t working in your favor.”

Jyggalag chuckled and looked to the swath of leather left on top of the nightstand. “We will see.”

****

He felt great and very relaxed. Likely too relaxed as the Daedra was lining up the full-length mirror with the bed, and obviously not yet done with whatever he had planned.

Rowan wanted to move, but he couldn’t. His body felt like a pile of comfortable goo, despite his reflection looking much like a porcupine.

“Now that your body is good and compliant, how about we have some fun?”

Jyggalag reached out and gently held Rowan’s dangling earring between his fingers. A flick of his wrist and he turned the medallion.

Rowan’s dragon side slide forward - as sluggishly as he currently felt.

“Jyggamul…” he said, able to retain some coherence with his other half.

“How has your training been going, Rowan?” The bed groaned with Rowan’s growing weight. “Have you been getting any better? I still want to know what it feels like to fuck you on this bed, but if you transform fully, I am not certain it will hold.”

With the lazy flick of a furred ear, Rowan grunted. He was somewhat offended that Jyggalag thought so lowly of his self-control. He could at least manage not fully transforming… _He hoped._

He watched through the mirror as Jyggalag straddled his legs, careful to not disturb any of the many needles that adorned his back keeping his dragon half docile. “This is a view I do not get often with you like this…” His fingers traced faint lines over Rowan’s back, up his sides. Exploring the way Rowan’s muscles shivered under his touch.

The touching moved higher, to flit teasingly over his bonding sight.

Rowan felt himself slip, to let his other side force the transformation that much further. Jyggalag toyed with his freshly formed horns, tugging on them and forcing Rowan’s head back. “So clumsy…” Jyggalag cheekily reprimanded, knowing full well he had been the cause.

“Ass…” Rowan commented, earning a small chuckle.

“You are right. I have been neglecting it,” Jyggalag grinned wider as he purposefully misunderstood. His fingers skated lower. Lower to the dip in Rowan’s spine. “Are you still sensitive here?”

Despite, the numbing sensations of Jyggalag’s needles, he arched with the touch, moaning as his tail emerged from the spot Jyggalag had just been tormenting with light touches.

“Looks like you are still in need of some practice…” His fingers played through the dark, feathery fronds at the tip of Rowan’s tail. “Hmmm…?”

The bed groaned again in warning.

“You’re making it harder on purpose!”

“Am I?” Jyggalag sounded surprised, but his damnable smirk said otherwise. His hands continued tracing over Rowan’s backside, to coax his legs further apart as he moved between them. “I certainly hope I am making something harder…”

Rowan felt Jyggalag drag a finger up the underside of his cock, to feel every ridge and fleshy barb that had appeared there with his transformation. He couldn’t help reacting. His length stiffening as its barbs swelled. His fingers curled into the sheets, and he tried desperately to muffle the keening whine that was trying to push up his throat.

“So, this is what causes so much trouble…” Jyggalag was merciless. His hand worked back over Rowan’s member. Tugging. Rubbing. Tormenting Rowan with touches that had his toes curling and his instincts clawing at his insides.

_He needed to be inside something…_

Rowan rutted against the sheets, drawing a full-blown laugh from Jyggalag. “That desperate already? I do hope Moralove can see you…”

He whined at the Daedra, his fangs lengthening. _His mate was sooo close, but he was being denied. Why…?_

Jyggalag yanked on one of his horns, yanking his thoughts back as his cock went again neglected. “Rowan… I hope you are still in there.”

“Haven’t left… Jygg,” he said around teeth awkwardly large in his mouth. Rowan knew what Jyggalag was digging for, however, and he also knew how close he had gotten to slipping into the haze of his instincts thrumming just beneath the surface.

Jyggalag yanked on his horn again. “Just making sure… I want you to etch every moment of this trip into that pea-brain of yours.”

“Careful Jygg… Your ears are showing.”

The teasing smirk momentarily slipped from the Daedra’s lips as a hand came around to feel for furry replacements to his normal, pointed ears.

His hand found none.

“Rowan…”

It was Rowan’s turn to grin. “Yes?” Betraying his mood, his tail coiled and uncoiled reflexively.

“You are so insufferable sometimes.”

“And yet, you’re still here…”

“Someone has to put you in your place.”

Reaching around with a broad arm, Rowan grabbed the back of Jyggalag’s head to pull him in tight for a quick peck to his sharp nose. “I’m glad it’s you then,” Rowan said when he separated, his breath brushing over Jyggalag’s lips.

This time the Daedra’s fox-like ears did emerge - the two white-furred triangles standing in stark comparison to Jyggalag’s currently black hair. They pulled back tightly against the Daedra’s head as blue dusted his grey cheeks. “Yes, well… Of course.” He waved a hand over his head and vanished the ears.

Rowan’s tail curled around the Daedra’s lower back. “Cheater.”

He earned himself another chuckle, the Daedra recovering from his brief moment of embarrassment quickly. “If you actually practised instead of always messing around…” He heard a quiet pop and a following chill along his back. Turning, Rowan saw the Daedra pouring the rose-colored oil.

“And, I’m sure you’re completely blame-free on that front.”

“What do you think we are doing now?” Jyggalag had begun teasing his slicked fingers into Rowan’s ass.

“Messing around.”

Mischievously thoughtful, Jyggalag hummed. “Perhaps, but that will not get you off the hook, Rowan. I still want to fuck you on this bed. Please do try and keep it together long enough for me to finish.”

“What about my needs?” Sorely ignored, his own cock throbbed with anticipation.

“Just keep your eyes on the mirror. I want Moralove to see every bewitching expression of yours.”

Rowan was about to turn around again, when a oil-slicked trust drove his eyes forward and his head snapping to the ceiling.

“Mirror, Rowan,” Jyggalag felt obligated to mention as he picked up his pace. “If you are good, we’ll see about dealing with your ‘needs’.”

Rowan obliged and only hoped he could still walk after they were done.

****

He should have figured something was up when nothing happened the night they had checked into this particular inn near Markarth. Waking up with his back against the headboard and his hands bound to the solid stone wall with heavy chain, cleared the doubt he had about Jyggalag paying for the second night on their late arrival.

“Oh, you are up. Good. Spread your legs a little more for me. I do not want to be doing all the work.”

Rowan didn’t immediately comply, especially when Jyggalag was pulling another set of chains up from the floor.

“Where did you-?” he asked sleepily, though becoming more awake and more aware he was naked with every passing second. So far, his eyepatch had remained intact.

“You are hardly the first to enjoy being tied up… This place tends to cater to those with more… adventurous needs.”

“Should I be worried that you might’ve been replaced by Sanguine?”

Jyggalag’s expression twisted slightly with disgust, but he made no further acknowledgment of it. “Legs, Rowan.”

“As you wish, my… _Prince.”_

There was a quiet poof, and a sudden twitching tail hanging off of Jyggalag’s backside. “Oh, I will be enjoying this,” Jyggalag assured him, cinching the padded manacle tight around Rowan’s left ankle. He moved quickly to the other side of the bed to do the same to Rowan’s right.

“So… What’s the real reason for the chains?” Rowan asked as the Daedra finished stripping and began to climb on top of him. The Daedra’s tail was still doing a mischievous wiggle as it was temporarily forgotten.

“Security. Fortunately, the bed is stone this time, so we will not have to worry about any more… accidents.”

_Someone was evidently still a little annoyed about that particular lovemaking session…_

Jyggalag hadn’t managed to get far into his rhythm before Rowan had further transformed and broke the bed from weight alone. Rowan should have suspected more from the glance he got as the Daedra paid for the damages the next morning.

“Now…” Jyggalag stretched across Rowan to flip his earring. “Where were we?”

Rowan could feel the Dragon brushing his consciousness with renewed interest, not yet wresting away his control.

“Nothing?” Jyggalag grinned, watching Rowan carefully. “And here I thought you would be interested in what I had planned for you.”

A furred ear flicked with the Daedra’s words. “And, what was that?”

The Daedra’s grin widened, and he rolled a familiar ring between his fingers. Sanguine’s ring. A second later, Jyggalag had pricked his own finger and set the ring aside on the bed table.

That was enough to pull the Dragon’s full interest and soon there was only one thing on Rowan’s mind as his pupil grew slit…

* * *

“Kulaas…” The word rumbled from Rowan’s chest as onyx horns swept back on the Nord’s head.

The chains rattled as the Dragon fought its bindings, but there was a reason Jyggalag had tested them while Rowan had been sleeping.

_They would hold, not to mention limit how… large Rowan would get with his ankles and wrists trapped._

“Dii Kulaas…” Rowan bemoaned again, a soft keen teasing the back of his throat.

 _Was Jyggalag being a little unfair…? Perhaps._ But, at the same time there was something to be said about being wanted so badly, in a form he just barely started accepting.

“Rowan…” Jyggalag called, settling on top of him.

The Dragon only whined, the shy Nord evidently pushed aside for now.

Jyggalag tsked. _He had hoped…_

“Rowan,” he tried again. “I want to ride you, but it must be you. Do you understand?”

Rowan bucked underneath him, trying to jostle Jyggalag closer to his proud standing cock.

Without even touching it, Jyggalag could feel himself growing hot with want, but he was to be the better of the two - _at least for the moment._

“Rowan,” Jyggalag warned. “I will turn back if you keep this up.”

The lashing tail stilled, and Rowan’s nostrils stopped flaring with his rapid scenting. Jyggalag had the Dragon’s full attention.

“I don…”

 _Close, but not quite._ He had to give more of a push. _The Nord was truly helpless without him…_

“‘You don’t’ what, Rowan? Use your big words. I know you are still in there.”

The Dragon huffed, but it was a good sign that it was relenting its hold.

“I don’t… want… you to,” he tried, this time a touch more coherent and not completely driven by draconic hormones. It didn’t stop Rowan’s cock from giving a twitch of interest against Jyggalag’s rump.

Jyggalag worked his deft fingers up Rowan’s chest and through the thick, tan fur that had sprouted along his chest and forearms.

Noting the darker stripes starting to work their way to the surface of Rowan’s pale skin, he cradled the Nord’s head in his hands. “You got close there, didn’t you…” His thumbs brushed over symmetrical lines forming beneath Rowan’s eyes.

Rowan took Jyggalag’s tone as teasing, though this time it was far more intended as a statement. He groaned, the sound a half-strangled noise. “You’re a damn… cheater… I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

“Poor baby. Are we a little more in control? I want Moralove to see how well-behaved you have become.”

“I’m not a dog, Jygg…”

“Could have fooled me with all that panting you did earlier… Are you that desperate to get inside me?”

“Says the pot calling the kettle… You’ve been ploughing my ass since this whole thing started.”

Jyggalag laughed. “I suppose you are right. It might just be my turn, hmm…?” Pressing against Rowan’s warmth, Jyggalag worked the eyepatch from the Nord’s face. He offered a short wave to Moralove, who was undoubtedly watching from the other side with rapt attention by now, and leaned back in such a way to accentuate the soft mounds of flesh that had grown on his chest with his transformation.

Rowan gave an appreciative cooing purr, though Jyggalag suspected it was far more subconscious.

_Such praise…_

Sliding to momentarily sit along the side of the bed, he traveled lower, his fingers exploring every muscle that was just that much larger. Like this, Rowan was even taller than him - not to mention girthier in other areas.

Jyggalag stopped to tease the tip of Rowan’s weeping cock. Its barbs pulsed and flared with desperation at his toying touch as all of Rowan’s instincts kicked into overdrive.

“Rowan… Talk to me. I want to know you are not a drooling idiot yet.”

There came a muted swear from the Nord’s lips. “Don’t… flatter yourself… you… you…” Rowan hissed through his teeth when Jyggalag drew a finger across his slit, wiping the bead of precum down his inflamed shaft. “A-Ass...” he eventually managed to stutter over the clink of chain pulled taut.

“Are you already begging?”

“Would it… Would it help?”

 _Oh…? Someone was getting a little wanting themselves…_ Jyggalag’s catlike grin returned full force as his fingertips traced light lines over Rowan’s balls. “It might…”

“You… are such a liar…”

Jyggalag’s tail swept out behind him, and he hummed. “I am hurt by your accusation, Rowan.”

* * *

“Like Oblivion, you are,” Rowan retorted on his tight exhale.

Confirming his suspicions, the Daedra only smiled deceptively sweet. Her bushy tail curled over her belly, to sit momentarily between her breasts before flicking away again.

His own tail thumped the stone bed impatiently beside them, catching Jyggalag’s attention for a moment.

She rolled his balls between her fingers, and his tail spasmed in return. “How fun…”

Biting his lip, he managed a strangled, “I’m not a toy…”

“Not a dog… nor a toy…” Jyggalag tilted her head to one side, letting her black hair slide off of her shoulder as she contemplated him. “If not one of those… then what are you Rowan?” She rose to settle herself between his legs, her gaze on him steady. She was expecting an answer.

His ears flicked back. “Well… Um…” Rowan gulped heavily.

“You have been so good at telling me what I am… What are you, Rowan?” Her hand rose to press tightly on his lower abdomen, and she watched his face with hooded eyes. “Well?”

_What kind of answer was Jyggalag wanting from him…?_

He could feel the heat rising on his face to turn his cheeks red. He suddenly had the urge to stare at a far point on the wall. “A… A lover… maybe? I hope… Because I kinda… kinda love you? I guess...”

Rowan looked back and found Jyggalag staring at him oddly - not to mention a second tail had popped out to join the first.

“Jygg-”

“Of course, you do,” she said, regaining her composure despite her tails flicking randomly behind her. “What can you not love about me?”

_Someone sure was cocky…_

“Oh, I’m sure I could name a few thing-” He stopped as a hand tightened around his sensitive cock.

The Daedra grinned with dangerous smirking eyes. “Choose your next words carefully, Rowan.”

“And, if I don’t?” he tempted, rattling the chains around his wrists ever so slightly.

Jyggalag’s thumbed up the underside of his cock slowly, the pressure of her hand purposefully tightening at every fleshy barb.

His leg twitched as his toes curled.

“I think I can get creative…”

Far less ashamed than he usually would be, Rowan offered a throaty moan. “Talos help me then...”

Jyggalag chuckled, her grin spreading with his further restrained reactions.

* * *

Jyggalag couldn’t resist teasing the poor Nord. There was something so very appealing with the way he fought within himself, his instincts barely suppressed as his chest heaved with anticipation.

With eyes never wavering from Rowan’s face, the Daedric Prince raised himself slowly. He reviled in Rowan’s continued discomfort, in the way the draconic cock twitched in his grasp as he lined its blunt head with his heat. In the way the barbs flared for a brief moment before pulling deceptively flat.

Cautiously, he sank onto it. _Thick. Hot. Throbbing._ It stretched him, just enough to tease pain, but not enough to drown the pleasure that came with it. He could feel the nubbed barbs and the way they expanded against his walls to lock them together.

He tested their hold, earning a groan and the clink of chains as he shifted on top of the Dragon. Jyggalag could feel the pull, the tug on his insides. Could feel the way the barbs rubbed with each minimal movement to somehow send a cascade of fire sparking through his system where they scraped. “Rowan,” he gasped. His fingers curled desperate into the fur covering Rowan’s chest.

_His insides were so sensitive… But…_

The Dragon beneath him whined, his mouth opening and closing in a constant torment as Jyggalag continued to deny him his throat. “Jyggahmul…”

_… Jyggalag wasn’t the only one enjoying the feeling._

His heat throbbed in time to the engorged member inside him and a part of him desperately wanted to know what it would be like to have Rowan’s fangs sinking into their bond at the same time. To feel that wanting connection thrum. To feel his own fangs sinking deep into smoky scent. His bond pulsed with anticipation even before he started leaning towards the Dragon’s maw.

Muscles tensed and writhed beneath him, Rowan’s breath growing hot and needy as the Dragon sensed what would be offered up to it. The chains dug tight into Rowan’s wrists as Jyggalag kept himself a hair’s breadth away.

“Rowan…” he said, smoothing a thumb over chapped lips to tilt Rowan’s chin up. His fingers wrapped lightly around Rowan’s throat; to feel his pulse quicken as he swallowed heavily.

“Please…” begged Rowan. His eyes had grown hazy with lust, the Dragon just barely kept below the surface of the Nord’s consciousness. “Jygg…” He sounded so wonderfully desperate. “Jygg.”

“I am here, Rowan.”

His tail lashed frantic beneath him as his chest heaved with his heavy scenting.

“I am here.” Jyggalag forced the Nord’s head to the side to bare that sweetly smelling mark. He grazed his fangs across it, raising keening protests as he only teased. He lapped and sucked at the site. Tugged and nibbled, but never the bite Rowan so badly wanted at the moment.

Fed up with Jyggalag’s torment, Rowan bucked.

Jyggalag’s fangs grazed that sensitive patch of skin, enough to draw a streak of crimson and a hiss. But, Jyggalag wasn’t focused on that. He was far more aware on the cock driving deeper. On the barbs that were fully inflamed and stopping any and all movement of their hips.

“Rowan!” Jyggalag cried, the shock of his orgasm coursing through him, through his veins, originating where they remained passionately connected.

The insufferable Beast beneath him grinned, though not for long when Jyggalag sank his fangs deep, tight into Rowan’s throat. Rowan made a strangled noise, sounding somewhat like Jyggalag’s name. He suspected it was the closest he was going to get with the Nord’s somehow intact pride.

They remained, for a moment, locked together; Jyggalag’s teeth continuing their hold, his nose pressed into Rowan’s heady musk. He was getting drunk off of it in a way he could never with alcohol. Not even from one of Sanguine’s brews.

_Rowan… Rowan… Rowan…_

Curiosity sated, and barbs allowing, Jyggalag slipped free from Rowan’s cock.

The Dragon stirred, though it remained tired and in a blissful compliance…

_Or so he thought…_

The ring he had put on the bedside was missing, and a moment of panic flitted through his mind.

So far from his shrine or entrance to his realm, he was careful to conserve his magic. The ring had been a more conservative method of transformation, but it also became the only way to turn back. At least, until Sanguine’s serum faded from Jyggalag’s system in an hour or two.

The Dragon seemed to only gain more interest with Jyggalag’s apparent distress. “Missing something, Kulaas?”

_Cheeky little…_

“Rowan…” he said with a hint of a warning. It was now very evident that a certain someone had something to do with it.

Purring with its evident deceit, the Dragon looked very smug. Its tail flicked across the bed, the barest glint of metal hidden by its bulk.

Jyggalag’s eyes widened suddenly, his hand stretching out before…

The subtle scent of smoke and wine curled around his nostrils, as Rowan- Rowi slipped from her chains.

“Meat…” Rowi crowded Jyggalag against the foot of the bed, a continued rumble in her chest as she brought Sanguine’s ring forward.

Jyggalag tried to wriggle away, but the Dragon was adamant in keeping him prisoner.

“Meat…” She repeated, dragging the ring across his cheek.

A streak of blue welled up as he felt his male form return, but it did little to ease his rising panic as a sandpaper tongue licked up the side of his face.

There was no hesitation as she ground against his half-hard length. “My turn, Ahmul…” Sharp teeth nipped along his throat, not yet teasing his bonding site. He swallowed subtly, not sure if he was wanting her to, though he was at least certain he could have done without the sharp claws kneading into his belly.

Her odd cooing purr returned as Rowi briefly nuzzled against his chest, then turned her full attention to his cock. Down she crept, lapping over the minor injuries she had caused with her claws with her tongue. “Ahmul…”

Jyggalag quivered with her ministrations, unsure if it was from trying to resist his apparent arousal or the anticipation of that rough tongue wrapping around his blade.

“Ahmuuulll…” She nipped at his inner thigh as one of her hands rubbed up his shaft. One slow stroke. A second slow stroke. It was enough to fully pull his blade from its sheath. Their eyes met in a momentary glance and she grinned. “Meat…” Her tongue rasped up his length, sending a thrill up his spine.

 _Pain. Pleasure. An odd mix to be sure._ He grunted but tried to hold himself still.

The second lick was softer, the Dragon allowing its human tongue pleasure him instead. _Rowi’s human tongue._ He could feel her chuckle between his thighs as she swallowed him.

Jyggalag had to admit; _he wouldn’t mind being devoured by something so… cute._

****

_… The same couldn’t be said with the irritant who decided to use him as a pillow the moment it was satisfied._

With his shoulder still tingling from Rowan’s ‘brand’, Jyggalag pushed at the huge furred head. He would rather to not waste the gifted magic getting the stupid brute off of him.

Rowan refused to move. Instead, the Dragon curled tighter in the limited space to drag Jyggalag further under its bulk with a large paw.

“Rowan!” he yelled through a mouthful of tan and dark-brown fur. He had been trying for the last hour and a half to reach Rowan’s earring, but his fingers continued to be kept just out of reach of its salvation.

_This most recent development certainly wasn’t helping. At all._

The Dragon let out another cooing purr, followed by a rumbled, “I love you so much Jygg…” Jyggalag was wrapped tighter in the living fur coat, with no hope of escaping. “Lemme have this… Just for a little longer…”

 _Not that it was the worst thing that could have happened…_ Jyggalag supposed.

* * *

Rowan only remembered waking sprawled across the floor with a fairly disheveled Jyggalag standing over him. He apologized for what he assumed had been a rough time for the Daedra, and Jyggalag had since been surprisingly quiet.

“Where are we going?”

Again, Rowan received no answer from the Daedra. It was getting colder, Jyggalag’s path decidedly north and near the mountains.

“Jygg?”

They had already paid for a night at the closest inn, yet Jyggalag was making no indication of returning despite the sun having sunk below the horizon. He continued to trudge after the Daedra, the snow rising up to mid-calf, when the Daedra finally stopped. Having kept his eyes on the ground, Rowan smacked into his back.

“Oof.” He rubbed his injured nose, earning a slight scoff from Jyggalag.

“Clutz.”

Rowan stopped massaging his nose temporarily to made a snide remark. “Thanks… So, where did you drag us this time?”

Jyggalag pointed up. The bright ribbons of yellows, greens, and purples played across the sky. “Out of the many things on your pathetically chaotic realm, this is the one thing I am envious of. Oblivion has its marvels, but not these… I wanted to see them with you.”

Rowan had seen the lights before… But, never like this. They suddenly seemed more magical than usual.

Subtly, he leaned into Jyggalag’s shoulder, and the Daedra slid his arm around him in return.

Jyggalag tugged Rowan in closer. “Rowan?”

“Hum?” He tore his eyes away from the brilliant light dancing across the midnight sky, to look at the Daedra.

“I love you.”

Rowan felt his face suddenly heat up. There was no hesitation, no trick in Jyggalag’s tone or face.

_He couldn’t believe… But, there was no evidence to the contrary._

“Rowan?” Jyggalag asked when he offered no evident response.

Rowan’s next few moments were not the most dignified. He uttered a quiet ‘meep’ and quickly backpedaled into the deep snow. Even without flipping his earring, his tail made a brief appearance, getting caught in his pants as it wagged then disappeared again.

He could see Jyggalag judging him. The Daedra’s head tilted to one side as he raised a brow.

Jyggalag was… not impressed with his reaction.

“What was that?”

“What was ‘what’?” Rowan replied, trying desperately to forget the last few seconds.

The Daedra sighed and turned back to watch the sky. “Nevermind. I am cold. Let us head back already.” Jyggalag had already started marching back to the inn with quick strides.

“Wait! Jygg!” He pulled himself from the snow bank he had fallen into and chased after the departing Daedra.

****

Jyggalag stormed into their shared room first, and dumped his cloak over the chest at the foot of the bed that took up the majority of the room.

Unsure if Jyggalag needed some space, Rowan remained awkwardly by the door.

“Jygg…”

The Daedra barely cast him a glance back.

“Are you… mad at me?”

“How could I be, Rowan? We have just established that our feelings for each other are mutual. It should be something to celebrate.”

Jyggalag’s whole manner seemed the exact opposite of a celebration.

“But...my reaction wasn’t what you were hoping it would be.”

Even without the over-expressive nature of his fox ears, Jyggalag’s small elven pair telegraphed his mood anyway. They had subtly pulled flush against his head, indicating that Rowan had been at least partially right.

Rowan was going to have regrets around what he was about to do later, but for now he had a Daedra to cheer up.

Cutting through the distance between them, Rowan grabbed at the Daedra. He yanked them together, body pressing against body. “What were you hoping for?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he brushed a raven lock of hair behind a pointed ear.

Jyggalag bent down to lean his forehead against his. The Daedra’s dark eyes closed, and they stayed like that. Stayed close to each other in the bustling silence of their rented room.

Rowan was the first to break the stillness. His thumb stroked over Jyggalag’s cheek as his head tilted further, mouth opening imploringly.

* * *

Their lips met and a hunger, unknown to even Jyggalag, was unleashed. His tongue dove into Rowan’s mouth to get the taste of him embedded into the moment. And luckily, Rowan returned the sentiment.

One of Rowan’s absurdly thick arms wrapped around his waist as the fingers of his other hand wrap around the back of Jyggalag’s head. Rowan always seemed to need the extra contact, to hold and be held.

Jyggalag indulged him, his own arms snaking around the Nord.

Dull teeth bit gently before Rowan’s own tongue took initiative. Soft curious licks that grew more aggressive the more he tasted of Jyggalag.

The Daedric Prince smirked against Rowan’s lips his own far sharper teeth drawing a gasp as they scraped against Rowan’s brave tongue. He felt the smoky copper hit his tongue, but the injury didn’t slow the Nord’s exploration of Jyggalag’s mouth.

Their stance swayed as they ground up against each other, their leathers not providing the friction that either wanted.

With a desperate growl, Rowan tipped their precarious balance and sent them tumbling to the bed. It creaked in warning, but it mostly went ignored as hands sought out buckles.

Rowan’s fingers momentarily paused, then turned to tugging the eyepatch from his face.

Deciding quickly, Jyggalag grabbed his hand. “Moralove does not necessarily need to see everything…” he whispered before diving for Rowan’s lips again.

****

Rowan stared at the signpost, then at Jyggalag. Then he stared some more at the signpost. It read ‘Windhelm’. “Ummm… Jygg?”

“What is it?”

He adjusted his cloak again to block out some of the wind. “Isn’t that Dwarven Ruin southwest of Skyrim?”

“Really?” Beside him, the Daedra had grown quiet.

Rowan continued anyway. “So… How did we end up here?”

“I… wonder…”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rowan frowned. “Jygg-” A chill traveled down his spine and he stilled; his instincts on full, and sudden, alert.

A growled, “You twooooo,” sounded from behind them.

They both turned slowly, the tendrils rising around them making it clear who their visitor was.

It was Mora: cold, stressed, and very, very angry.

Rowan was grabbed first, a portal yawning open beneath him, a nest of tendrils wrapping his limbs to make escape impossible even if he tried to use a Thu'um.

By the time he had sunk to his neck, Mora had ensnared Jyggalag, dragging him down similarly.

* * *

They fell into Apocrypha gracelessly, splashing into a large pool of green slime. Their armour and underclothing quickly disposed of by eager limbs.

_At least it was warmer..._

Tendrils slid up Jyggalag’s arms, over his legs, one even pressing between his ass cheeks trying to coax its way in. But, it wouldn’t matter what sort of feeling Moralove invoked, he could keep those memories firmly locked away from prying eyes. “It is useless, Love! I have trained to fight that ability of yours.”

“Perhaps, but I doubt Rowan has the same experience, nor the will to resist.”

Jyggalag’s confident expression fell slightly.

_Shoot…_

Beside him, Rowan was already reclined back into an orgasmic bliss, knees held bent and legs spread by tendrils lurking beneath the pool’s surface. Rowan’s face was flushed a cherry red as a lone dark-green tendril parted those chapped lips. Another of Moralove’s limbs circled the Nord’s throat to void any possible chance of drowning if Rowan should grow completely limp. A slicked pair pumped experimentally into the Nord’s lower half.

“Rowan!” Jyggalag scolded, knowing all too well how susceptible the Nord was to pleasure - he had spent the last few months exploiting it; months that Moramour desperately wanted in on.

Rowan slid a guilty eye open, his muscles clenching and unclenching in synced rhythm with Moramour’s tendrils pounding into him.

“Nowwwww…” Moralove drawled above Jyggalag, dropping lower to nearly touch the pool’s surface.

His Amour-a dipped beneath into the murk to rise again wearing a far more provocative form. Tendrils coiled around the generous curve of her thighs and hips, some hugging her peach-shaped bottom to curve between her legs and cup her amply filled-out breasts. Her appearance was… different... dangerous, but definitely invoking some reaction from his nethers - not that it showed past the wall of his discipline.

“According to Rowan… sommmmeone’s been _naughty…_ ”

“According to Rowan, Skyrim is hot. I do not see you agreeing with that,” Jyggalag commented, trying to distract Moramour from whatever she had planned.

She chuckled, her mind musing his words. “Indeed. But, I think I’m going to have to agree with him on this one…” An image stirred to life in front of Jyggalag, brief flashes of the last few months flicking past. His Amour-a would likely have the hazy memories cleaned by the time she was finished with them.

“Arkngthamz was it? You two certainly had an interesting course plotted to get there. Rorikstead, Old Hroldan, Solitude, Markarth, and finally… Windhelm!!”

Jyggalag couldn’t help feeling smug. He could easily see the difficulty Moralove had at trying to track their progress. _That had been the intention after all, and yet…_ “How did you find us?” Despite the internal pain it caused him, he had kept their stops as random as possible considering the need for sleep limiting how far they could go between.

“Rowan. He removed his eyepatch to wash his face.” The tendril delving Rowan’s mouth slid free with a pop.

“I was getting… mrffgh… sweaty,” the Nord defended, or tried to with the tendrils pumping his ass. “I… ngh… I’ve never had it on for that long…”

A separate tendril stroked lovingly along the side of Rowan’s face. “But, perhaps it wasn’t the wisest to daydream out the window, Love… Not that I can fault you. You did good.” Moramour’s expression turned fond.

Rowan found no words to further defend himself, nor his moment of early morning stupidity with. Moramour’s praise certainly didn’t help either. Jyggalag could just see the dragon’s tail thrashing out behind the Nord.

But, not to be completely distracted from the upcoming ‘punishment’, Moramour manipulated her tendrils to wrap Rowan and Jyggalag tight, shoulder-to-shoulder. “Where should we start…”

An apprehensive glance was shared between Rowan and Jyggalag. There was worry, yet both also knew they would be enjoying this. Very… very much so.

Within the next moment, the hungry Kraken was upon them.


	21. Child Surprise [General]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan thought he had gotten used to all the weirdness a Daedric Prince could throw at him. He was mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Tags: Fluff, Jyggalag, Hermaeus Mora, Male Dovahkiin
> 
> Notes: Sven pretty much is Skitamine’s character, so super thankies to her ^^

Mora was acting strangely… _well, stranger than usual._ Rowan couldn’t quite place when the Prince’s odd behavior started, but it must have been in the last year or so.

“No,” came Jyggalag’s usual protest as Mora literally hung on his heels. Tendrils had wrapped around his ankles as Jyggalag stalked away, each step weighted down as Mora dragged along the ground behind.

Rowan took a sip from his tankard, somewhat enthralled with the display.

“Please…?” Mora groveled, face still down in the dirt.

“I said, ‘no’. Go bother Rowan.”

There was a long whine, Jyggalag raising his hands to cover his ears. “But, Rowan caaaaannn’t.”

Eh? Can’t what...? He and Jyggalag were about even on everything… everything except… _Ah… Kids. Mora wanted kids._

****

“Just ignore it, Moralove will drop the nesting behavior eventually.”

 _‘Nesting’ was a rather apt description of what was going on._ Despite attempts to cool and air out his house, it retained a certain humid warmth, not to mention the smaller bed that had appeared in his guest room lavished with luxury pillows and sheets. Even Rowan’s fairly barren storage room had been stocked full. Apples, and rare cheeses, dried exotic fruits, and sweet smells. It was enough to feed a small army - or as Rowan figured - a small hungry Daedra. His library ransacked. All his books had been either swapped out with first editions or replaced completely by far rarer ones, and every sharp weapon or tool had been worn smooth… worn _safe._

“But…”

“Don’t be fooled. He always gets like this a century after bonding.” Jyggalag sighed, the weight of a millennium of wisdom dragging on his shoulders.

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t- don’t have someone messing with your stuff.”

Jyggalag didn’t even bother giving him a glance. “Better your things than mine.”

Rowan gave a short laugh as he sat cross-legged, his hands coming to rest on his knees. “I’m sure. So, you really don’t want kids?”

The Daedra stared at him, his dark eyes serious. “There is a reason why it is rare for Daedric Prince’s to couple, even rarer for them to stay together for as long as Moralove and I… A union is to remain barren.”

Confused, Rowan’s face grew slack. “I thought…”

“We can, but we mustn’t. Moramour tries to conveniently forget.”

“Why?”

Jyggalag’s disdain for the line of questioning was apparent, but Rowan was curious if not determined. The Daedra furrowed his brow only slightly. “Imagine if you will… two primordial beings of inconceivable power joining in union, the offspring of that union destined to be stronger than either of its parents. While it may sound fine to you if Moramour and I join, what of Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon, Vaermina and Peryite-”

“I… get your point.”

“Good. So, no. I won’t be siring even the thought of offspring, as my brethren have agreed to.”

Rowan wasn’t completely satisfied. “You didn’t answer the question, Jygg. Do you want kids?”

Jyggalag’s lips drew to a fine line, and the scroll he had idly been pouring over suddenly took all his attention. “That is irrelevant,” he finally said.

Running a hand down his face, Rowan sighed. “And, I’m out because I’m mortal…”

“Hardly. It’s because your soul is that of a dragon. A rather impertinent dragon,” he added in more of a mumble. “By their very nature, Dragons seek power. If you were to be the… mother, your soul would absorb the Daedric intrusion and take its power. It would perish in your womb. If the mother were to be either Moramour or I, the child would seek to take more than its share of our magic. We would be forced to kill the youngling, or likely perish. It would be foolish to continue entertaining such hazardous thoughts - that much, Moramour has seen sense on.”

“That’s…” His finger drooped. “Huh…” Rowan said instead.

****

Rowan thought long and hard about it… _Well, at least he thought hard about it anyway._ His smaller companion remained unsure, continuously glancing back the path they had traveled from Whiterun, despite the trees already moving to cover their tracks.

“Are you going to eat me?” came her equally small voice.

The question startled him, not of its contents, but by the fact that the young girl actually said something. He hadn’t heard anything past the quiet goodbye she gave the orphanage, he was still a proud patron of. “No. No… Svenja,” Rowan reassured her.

Her tiny fists curled around her dress, rumpling the rough fabric. “It’s Sven…”

 _Sven, huh? Well, at least she was talking to him._ “Sven, why would you ask that?”

“Everyone says a monster lives in these woods. And, since you live in these woods…”

He chuckled weakly. Rowan hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the most recent rumors flying around, and he suspected Jyggalag might have had something to do with them - the Daedra wasn’t exactly the kindest to people who ventured close to their homes. “I’m not a monster, Sven.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure…”

She seemed to calm down a little, but now Rowan was getting a little worried. He could only hope the others would behave.

Rowan hadn’t exactly told them he was bringing someone extra home.

****

“She’s so adorable!!!” screamed Mora, eager to get his hands… _Er, tendrils, on their new addition._

“W-wait, Mora!” Rowan shouted, shielding Sven with his body. The last thing he wanted was Mora to go and traumatize the poor child. Fortunately, Mora had yet to actually unleash his tendrils.

Mora froze, his arms stretched out in front, hands opening and closing.

“This is Sven.”

“You can’t go kidnapping children, Rowan. Even I am aware of that,” unhelpfully added Jyggalag.

Mora’s mood shifted sour. The look on his face, disappointment. Somehow in the few seconds he had seen her, Mora had already gotten attached.

“She’s an orphan. From Whiterun. I asked around if they had anyone who’s been there the longest… This would have been Sven’s third winter.” Rowan gentle placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her, but it might have been more for him.

“What’S wROnG wiTh Her?” piped in Devilag from the window. Jyggalag had refused to be in the same room for the introduction - likely because he didn’t want to have to strangle the copy in front of guests. Devilag was hushed with a stern glare.

“Nothing, but she’s a mix of Mer and Man. Not many folks take to her Altmer blood, especially in Skyrim,” Rowan answered.

Sven flinched back as if she had been slapped, her hands moving to play nervously with the end of one of her loose maroon braids.

Rowan couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Her caretaker had mentioned Sven had even been returned because of her heritage.

Overjoyed they were going to be able to keep her, Mora simply beamed brighter. A tendril wriggled out behind him, and Rowan hoped the Prince could hold it together so he could at least get Sven settled before throwing the whole Daedra thing at her.

He laughed weakly. “How about we get some lunch first? Then we’ll see where things go from there.”


	22. Taming the Devil [Teen]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sven never asked for much, and when she did it was mostly practical. A new dress, a fresh bar of soap. What she really wants is a new friend. Fortunately, Jyggalag knows how to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Tags: Fluff
> 
> Teen due to language.

Sven never asked for much, and when she did it was mostly practical. A new dress, a fresh bar of soap. The one time she dared ask Dyus for something sweet from the traveling trader, Moramour had overhead and near drowned her in them; between Jyggalag, Rowan, and Sven, the sweets didn’t last long.

So, it was a very big deal when she approached Jyggalag; her first choice, Rowan, on a quest that was currently taking him some time to complete.

“Chichi?”

“What is it?” Jyggalag crossed his arms into the wide sleeves of his kimono. He was currently on his way back to his office.

Suddenly put on the spot, she fiddled with her braid. “Ummm… I was wondering…” She trailed off to nothing and Jyggalag waited for her to continue. “If I could have a pet…”

Squid gave an almost indignant chirp from her shoulder, mimicking Jyggalag’s own thought, _Squid didn’t count?_

She looked a little guilty. “You know… something I can take care of and take on walks. Squid is more Dad’s… I was hoping for my own…”

A little lost in thought, Jyggalag tapped his foot. “I think you’re really wanting a friend…”

Sven’s eyes shifted to the ground. “Papa doesn’t let me leave the forest…”

His expression softened. With as many wards and enchantments as it had, Moramour’s woods acted like his own little Oblivion realm on Skyrim soil. It was only natural that he would try to coop Sven up within them.

“Well… I think I have something in mind. With a leash, I’ll even let you wander beyond the forest with it.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

****

Since Sven had come into their lives, Jyggalag had moved the abomination back into his home and into a forgotten corner. He was unsure how it would react left free, and at the time he had limited magic to do anything more than ‘coop it up’ as he was so kindly reminded by Rowan.

Now he had enough spare magic to alter the enchantments on its collar.

“Behave yourself,” he warned the thing as he hooked the leash around the metal loop.

“WhY?” it growled, definitely not taking to the dangling tag.

“Because you are meeting someone.”

“OhHhH? Is ThAT wHy yoU wEre tinKERing AgAin?”

“Yes,” answered Jyggalag flatly, tugging harshly to encourage the thing to follow him.

****

“Sven. You are now its keeper,” he said tying the other end of the leash around her wrist. The band glowed briefly as its Daedric runes acknowledged her.

She watched with fascination but was apprehensive about Jyggalag’s creation attached to the other end. “Chichi… He looks like you…”

As if seeing the abomination for the first time, he agreed with her assessment, ignoring its pondering look at his new name. “I suppose it does, but it will allow… Papa to be more lenient.”

Tempted with the promise of independence, her eyes swept back over the abomination. “But… why the rope? Isn’t it bad for him?”

“ _It’ll_ cause trouble without it. I’m trusting you to keep an eye on it.”

“O...okay…” she answered, still fairly hesitant about the whole idea. “Does he have a name?”

“DeV,” it answered simply, finalizing the contract created between them.

Unnoticed by Sven, its name etched itself into the face of the silver tag around its throat. “Oh, well come on then…” She gave the slightest tug, but with the enchantments Jyggalag had imbued the cord with, she yanked his creation face first into the ground.

Sven began immediately apologizing as she knelt and helped clear the dirt from its white hair and front.

Pleased with the results of his handiwork, Jyggalag could only smirk. _It would be just fine…_

* * *

“Ummm… where do you want to go?” she asked Dev.

He sighed, somewhat still upset about earlier. She had said she was sorry. “DoEs iT maTTer?”

“Not really…” Sven scuffed her boot along the ground, raising a small cloud of dust. She just wanted to see what was out there. She had never given thought as to where she would start.

“ThEn JuSt staRT waLkinG.”

It seemed like fairly good advice, but she still had to figure out which direction. _Hmmm… That way seemed good._

“I hOpE yOu caN fiGHt.”

“Huh?” She stopped and swiveled back to face Dev.

“ThEre’s A bunCH of BeArS thAt wAY.”

“Oh…” Sven started in a different direction.

Her companion shook his head, still not willingly following her. “BaNdiTs.”

Frowning, she tried the next direction. Again, to be stopped by her companion.

“VamPirES.”

On a hunch, she pointed in the direction they had come. In the direction of their home.

“CaNniBaLs.”

“You’re messing with me!” Sven accused.

“aNd, YoU arE inCrEDIBLy GuLLibLE.”

“Grrrrr.” She stomped her foot, her cheeks puffing with her frustration.

Dev only grinned wider.

“This way!” she announced, this time without hesitance.

****

“Dev!” she yelled, jumping on top of her sleeping friend.

His eyes snapped open, and he growled with her sudden attack. But, he wouldn’t hurt her. He never did - especially when she flashed him her brightest smile.

Dev groaned and tried to pull his blankets back over his head. “Fuck ofF.”

She gasped. “Language!” Sven scolded, just like Papa would.

Still groggy with sleep, he just grumbled some more. “You souNd liKe HerMaloVe…”

“Dev!” she insisted when he seemed like he was going back to sleep on her.

“It’s way tOo eaRLy. WHat arE You doinG up anYway?”

A quick glance and both saw that the sun wasn’t even up yet.

It didn’t matter. Sven wanted to show off what she helped Dyus prepare. “I made breakfast!” she beamed happily, bring forth the bowl of mushy porridge and burnt toast. “You can just scrap the black bits off.”

“BiTs?” Dev picked up a piece of the crispy bread and looked it over. “ThiS is a piEce oF chaRcoal.”

She pouted. “Dyus said it was fine… He even tried a little for me!”

“TheN he is a fAr braVEr mAn tHan I giVe Him creDit for,” replied Dev, once again trying to disappear under his blanket.

Unwilling to let her friend escape without trying her hard work, she gripped the blanket and pulled. “Come on!!!” whined Sven, entering a game of tug-of-war with Dev. “Chichi’s taking us to the festival!”

She tumbled as Dev suddenly let go. Tugging the blanket off her head, she glowered.

Dev sat up with a sleepy smirk. “I’m ASsuming tHat’s thE reaL reaSon YoU mAde BreAkfAst.”

Sven twiddled the blanket between her hands. She couldn’t make eye contact. “Maaaaaybe.”

“YoU BrAt.”

She stuck her tongue out.

“WeLL, i’M up nOw…”

“Good!!” Sven exclaimed. “Come out when you’re done eating. We get to leave after!”

* * *

Jyggalag ushered her forward.

“Dad!” Sven shouted, running up to Rowan, her half-eaten candied apple clutched tight.

“Sven!” returned Rowan, grabbing her under the armpits and swinging her around. He put her down after a full rotation. “That’s a pretty robe. Did Chichi help you pick it out?” The black and white fox pattern all over the cloth was a bit of a healthy hint.

Giggling, she playfully bapped him on the head with her free hand. “It’s a yukata, Dad.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He grinned with her. “But, you had fun?”

“Yeah. You should have come with us!”

“You know I would have, but someone had to make sure Papa got his work done.”

Sven giggled an agreement at that. Mora had developed a recent habit of dropping everything to play with Sven, even if that meant forgoing his princely duties. Rowan had been asked by more than a few annoyed Seekers to get Mora back on track - not to mention the occasional Daedric Prince that had to pick up the slack.

“We’ll have to trade places next time. I believe you have yet to actually go. Frankly, I’m surprised they still hold them,” commented Jyggalag.

“Maybe I should…” Rowan spied Devilag returning in the background, black robe and fox mask tied around his head mirroring Jyggalag’s look in white. He had yet to see Dyus return. “Where’s Dyus? Did he not come back with you?”

Sven’s expression turned less jovial. “Uhhh… well… He’s not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well?”

Devilag turned with a grin to the forest. “CoMe on, DyUs! RoWan iS the onLy one Who hAsn’t seEn yOu yet.”

Wanting answers, he turned to Sven. The girl was still at the stage she was too honest for her own good. “Sven…”

She hid partially behind her candied apple, it clutched tight in front of her. “He… was… mistaken as a girl… many times.”

Rowan followed her gaze with his eyes, finding Dyus’ slumped shape shamble forwards. _Dyus had seen better days… Though…_ Rowan had to admit, if he didn’t know Dyus personally, he would have also mistaken the near-albino to be a woman - especially dressed in the flower-printed robe and white bangs pinned back with a jeweled hair clip.

Devilag only grinned wider. “ToO bAd the only Kimonos thaT wouLd fit, wEre for Girls… isn’T thAt riGht _DyUsinette_.”

Finally having enough, Dyus snapped. Uncharacteristically, he threw the small bag he had been carrying and shouted, “Be banished back to Oblivion, Devilag!” much to everyone’s surprise.

The copy hissed as the bag ricocheted off his head with a heavy thwack.

All eyes swiveled back to Dyus, his body still stretched out in a finished throw, his petite frame heaving with every breath. Recovering faster than his audience, Dyus recollected himself and bowed deeply. “If you may excuse me, I am taking my leave.”

Stunned similarly, Jyggalag had to blink a few to times to register Dyus’ request. “Of… of course. You are dismissed.”

Dyus bowed again before turning on his heel and running into the sanctuary of Jyggalag’s mansion.

When he had vanished completely, Sven ducked her head into Rowan’s arms. “It’s all my fault,” she whimpered. “I urged Dyus to wear it despite the fact he looked overwhelmed… I’m sorry.”

“Awww. No. You couldn’t have known. I’m sure he’s not mad at you.” Rowan hugged her reassuringly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head into his shoulder.

Jyggalag temporarily knelt to whisper in his ear, while Sven continued her sniffing. “I’ll go talk with Dyus. This is partially my fault as well.” He offered a light touch to Sven’s back before rising and dragging his copy away.

Wiping one leaking eye then the other with her sleeves, Sven looks at him. She seemed to have calmed down a little. “Did Papa leave already?”

“I’m afraid so, Sven.”

Her eyes turned down as her head dipped. It wasn’t hard to guess that she was disappointed.

“He had to go back to Apocrypha, but I’m sure he’s ready for a little break…” Rowan slipped the eyepatch from his face, his Daedric eye swiveling on his adoptive daughter. He could easily feel Mora’s excitement bubbling through the shared eye.

There wasn’t even a second between one moment to the next. A yellow-green vortex opened up and the Daedra shot through. Sven didn’t even have time to brace herself for the ensuing ‘squee’ and tight hug of limbs and tendrils.

“Sweetie!!! Oh, Papa missed you! Papa missed you sooo much!” Mora rubbed his cheek against Sven’s, very unwilling to let go. “Just look how pretty you are! You’re growing too fast!”

“Papa…” Sven protested against Mora’s hold, her earlier depression all but evaporated. “I’m only eight…”

“But last year you were seven!”

“But, that’s what happens!”

“Noooo!”

Rowan sighed warmly. He had been worried, but it was clear Sven was not just a passing interest for any of the Daedra.

* * *

“Sorry, Lady Svenja…” lamented Dyus to himself. “I spoiled your day…”

“Dyus!”

In a panic, Dyus turned and fell to his knees. He kept his head bowed low. “My deepest apologies! I didn’t-”

“Get up!” His lord sounded mildly exhausted.

Wanting to obey, but still hesitant, Dyus slowly looked up. He was ill prepared for his lord’s face so close to his own. Even if it actually belonged to Devilag.

“You! Beg for his forgiveness!” Master Jyggalag forced Devilag’s head lower, though the copy fought against the downward pressure.

“Huh?! Why me?! _You_ said you were responsible! You do it!” His master’s face snapped.

“Please…” Seeing Lord Jyggalag’s face that close. Seeing it snapping and snarling… It was a little too much for Dyus to take in that instance. He could feel his world growing dark… faint… “Don’t… I don’t…”

“Dyus!" came Lord Jyggalag's concern. To his copy he snarled, "Now look what you did!”

“What I did...?!”

The angry words faded from his ears, as Dyus' consciousness drifted off. It was too much for his mind to take.


	23. Afternoon Quiet [General] *NEW*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a quiet enough afternoon. Might as well go for a swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable tags: Fluff
> 
> Thank-yous to Skit for the help on this short piece.

It was a pleasant afternoon. The sun shone brightly across the small pond they happened upon; Devilag and Lady Sven stripping down to their underclothes to dive into the sparkling water.

“Dyus! Come on! The water isn’t even deep,” encouraged Lady Svenja from the shallow end. She happily raised her hands above her head and slapped them down on the water about her chest, causing a large wave.

Dyus remained where he was seated; dry and in the shade of a large oak. He shook his head in response to Lady Svenja’s request.

“Awww. Nooo,” pouted Lady Svenja, drawing the clone’s attention who had been paddling lazily through the water on his back.

With a frown, Devilag flipped to his feet and began wading to the shore nearest Dyus in fast splashing steps. “You heard her, Dyusinette! If you won’t come willingly, I’ll have to drag you in…” he cackled menacingly when he got closer.

As much as Dyus liked Lady Svenja, he still wasn’t inclined to get wet.

He never did recover from his near-drowning so many centuries ago, and Devilag’s threatening hand was making him even less tempted to enter the water. Dyus gulped and grabbed the closest thing he could to throw at the copy. A frog happened to be the happenstance victim.

It croaked a complaint as it landed belly-first against the copy’s face, momentarily knocking him back into the water, but not before intentionally grabbing Dyus wrist.

There followed a few seconds of panicked splashing, and when Dyus finally realized he could safely stand up he whirled on the smug copy.

He was heartily laughing at Dyus’ misery. Just pointing and holding his belly as tears ran unbridled down his face.

_The indignity!_

“You…” Dyus quaked with rage, never before feeling it so strongly. Never having to feel it so strongly. “You…” he repeated, just moments away from exploding.

The copy glanced up, his laughter quickly petering out. He was staring at Dyus, _no doubt thinking of another cruel way to make fun of him._

Dyus wouldn’t give him the opportunity.

He cast Burden with a twist of his nimble fingers, increasing the copy’s weight tenfold. Unprepared, Devilag was dragged beneath the waves with a startled yelp.

“I said ‘No’.” Dyus affirmed to the rising bubbles where Devilag had disappeared.

He was prepared to make his exit when something fluttered past his ear. Dyus batted it away with his hand, but it swiftly returned. Dyus finally caught sight of vibrant silk wings, and his eyes went wide, his arms flailing wildly. His brain shut down to pure primal fear as he tried desperately to put some distance between himself and the insect. “Master! Help! No! Don’t!”

He thought he heard Lady Svenja shout, but he was far too scared to register her words.

A hand darted from the water, grabbing tightly to his wrist. Dyus clawed at it with short fingernails, leaving angry blue lines in the grey flesh. Despite its wounds, the hand persisted, pulling Dyus into a tighter embrace.

“Calm dOwn! It’s okay! You’re free now.”

Dyus was still shaking, his voice replaced by small stunted hics. A small voice whimpered, “Dyus!” A smaller body waded up to hug his arm tight.

The soothing contact grounded him. Made him momentarily forget the terrors of his past. He was still shaking, but the tremors could almost be dismissed as a side effect from the cold water.

Almost.

“I know… You went through a lot too,” came Devilag’s voice, oddly calm. Dyus had to look up to double check it was the copy and not actually his master. “But you have to fAce your fears.”

Dyus murmured a tiny agreement, his free arm subconsciously raising to embrace the comfort in front of him.

“You’re not alone.”

“We’re here, Dyus!” cheered Lady Svenja as she shook the both of them.

“Thank you,” Dyus mumbled quietly, embarrassed by the scene he had just caused.

The copy huffed. “Geez…”

Lady Svenja simply giggled. “Dev is nice!”

Devilag puffed his chest out with the mild praise, completely shattering the earlier mood. “Of course,” he said proudly. “I’m aS sweet as a Divine.”

Both Dyus and Lady Svenja shared severe doubts about the copy’s claim.

More or less back to normal, Dyus wanted to get out of the water. He sloshed to the pond’s edge, water running in cold rivulets down his back - his thrashings from earlier had gotten him thoroughly soaked.

“Hey!” came the copy’s protest as Dyus neared shore.

Dyus continued to ignore him and proceeded to haul himself out.

“Dyus!!! I can see your undiEs!!”

He stopped moving, and returned to the water. He had forgotten what would happen if the light material of his white robe where to get wet, and Devilag was immature enough to point it out.

_...Sweet as a Divine, his ass._

Dyus undressed carefully in silence, to eventually place his clothes up on the grassy bank to dry. “I’ll settle here for now,” he conceded to the copy and to Lady Svenja.

The trouble duo celebrated their win by Devilag picking Lady Svenja up under the arms and spinning her in a fast circle above his head.

“Yay!” she shouted.

_If only Master could see this..._

* * *

Jyggalag caught Dyus as he returned. When he approached the small man, he snapped the fan he had been using to banish the summer heat closed. “How goes your report on… _it?_ ” While he would deny it, he had been getting curious how well Sven was getting along with her new… friend.

Near immediately, Dyus was kneeling on one knee with his head bowed respectively. “Quite well, Master!”

Maybe it was the heat, but Jyggalag was feeling unusually flustered with the formality - even if Dyus evidently was unperturbed. “Dyus,” he started. “Just sit. There is no need to kneel.”

The small man paused for a moment, before shifting to sit in seiza-style - legs trapped uncomfortably beneath his thighs.

He could only sigh at the formality of it. _Surely Dyus could relax in his presence?_ The harder he thought about it, the more Rowan’s words seemed to pester him. “I didn’t necessarily mean like that…”

Confounded, Dyus tilted his head to one side, resembling a small animal.

Again, Jyggalag could only sigh. “Just forget it for now…” He gestured forward with the fan, before snapping it back open with a flick of his wrist. “Go on… W- What do you have to report?” His tapped his chin absentmindedly with the fan’s white paper leaves.

Dyus seemed more than a little relieved to put the earlier confusion behind him, and focus on delivering his prepared answer. “Well, he- it’s been behaving quite well lately. I would surmise that as long as it has someone to focus hi- its sanity, it appears to be stabilizing.”

****

His Lord looked a little bored, likely disappointed by the normalcy of his report. “Was there anything else?”

“Hum… He’s empathetic about my time imprisoned…”

Master Jyggalag snapped the fan closed, his expression for the most part unreadable, but Dyus could detect traces of pain edging it.

Suddenly, Dyus was wishing he hadn’t shared. It wasn’t his master’s fault things turned out the way they did, but Lord Jyggalag often blamed himself for the way things turned out. Especially, everything involving _that_ incident.

“Thank-you Dyus. Continue as you were.”

“Yes, Master.” Dyus kept his head bowed as his Lord walked on, likely to his office where he had begun to spend more time.


End file.
